


You're Always Spider-Man

by JinxQuickfoot



Series: Whumptoberverse [9]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Peter Parker, Day 9, Gay Harley Keener, Gen, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Hurt Harley Keener, Hurt Peter Parker, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapping, Protective Harley Keener, Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26791210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxQuickfoot/pseuds/JinxQuickfoot
Summary: Peter swallowed as he took in the scene around him. He didn’t feel nearly as confident doing this as he would have been with his powers, but he’d been kidnapped before, and Tony had found him. And after he had been trained for this – drilled relentlessly by Natasha until he knew what to do in any hostage situation. Harley hadn’t.The choice was obvious. “Take me instead.”----------------------------------------------------------------------------Harley Keener moves into the Compound. He and Peter don’t get on.Maybe a touch of kidnapping will help with that.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Harley Keener, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Whumptoberverse [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921831
Comments: 255
Kudos: 620
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [killerqueenwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/gifts), [itsreallylaterightnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsreallylaterightnow/gifts).



> Whumptober 2020 Day 9
> 
> Prompts: "Run!"/"Take me instead"
> 
> Relationship: Peter & Harley
> 
> Can be read as a standalone but does exist in the same timeline as the rest of the Whumptoberverse; this one particularly references "Man in a Can" and "Amendments". 
> 
> Gifted to killerqueenwrites and itsreallylaterightnow who are currently writing my favorite [Whumptober 2020](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26744509/chapters/65246797) collection. 
> 
> And yes it's the "Peter and Harley get kidnapped because of Tony" trope.

Peter wasn’t jealous.

He _wasn’t._ He wasn’t that kind of person. A scholarship kid at one of the most prestigious high schools in the country, he’d never been jealous of the richer kids’ designer wardrobes or fancy cars or even promises of college tuition. He knew May gave him everything she could, in more than just money, and Peter had never coveted more.

Losing your parents and uncle at a young age did wonders for appreciating what you had in life.

So Peter was definitely, certainly, without a shadow of a doubt _not_ jealous of Harley Keener.

The teenager had turned up in the lobby of Stark Industries a week ago, and two sentences were enough for Tony to move him into the Compound full time. “My mom found out I was gay and kicked me out. I didn’t know where else to go.”

It wasn’t even that Peter didn’t _like_ Harley. Ok, he was a little showy, more than a little blunt, didn’t respect boundaries all that well…And yes, Peter got the irony of not enjoying those features on someone who, in a lot of ways, was basically a teenage Tony Stark. Much more so than Peter was.

If any of the other Avengers had objections with Tony moving in _another_ teenager with an affinity for tech and a smart mouth (Rhodey was teasing him endlessly about it), Tony had shut them up with “He’s smarter than most of you combined and he saved my life. He’s staying.”

Which Peter should have been grateful for, right? If Tony hadn’t stumbled into Harley’s garage in Tennessee, there was a very real chance Peter would never have gotten a chance to meet the man he had since grown so close to. Even if Peter had saved Tony’s life too. In Siberia. And Steve’s as well. So. 

He had felt sick the first time he had that thought. He hadn’t saved them for any kind of reward, or recognition, or to be Tony’s favorite. He’d done it because it was the right thing to do. And he should be glad Harley knew Tony, glad that Harley had a place to go that wasn’t the streets or a foster home. Glad even that Peter had someone his own age around the Compound. So Peter had decided to at least make an effort. 

Then it had happened. 

Peter had been on his way to his weekly lab appointment with Tony to work on the suit, when he had walked in on Tony giving Harley the biggest hug he could.

Peter had frozen in the doorway. Tony had _never_ hugged him, not even in Siberia. He made it very clear from early on that that wasn’t going to part of their relationship, which Peter was fine with. It didn’t take a New S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to see that Tony was jumpy around touch, except with those he absolutely trusted. Since the Accords, that had been limited to Rhodey and Bruce. And Peter was fine with that.

And yet here he was, rubbing circles on Harley’s back and soothing him like…

Peter bolted.

Later, when he was sprawled over his bed in his bedroom at the Compound, he was furious. Not at Tony. At himself.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. At the Compound, he was free to ditch the loose jumpers he wore around school to hide his physique, and he was currently wearing one of the band t-shirts Tony had tucked in his drawer. Peter had never really gotten into Tony’s taste in music, but it wasn’t for Tony’s lack of trying.

Harley, on the other hand, loved every album Tony did.

Peter huffed as he pulled himself out of bed, gazing at himself in the mirror. The well-fitted t-shirt and jeans made him look older than his usual bargain bin wardrobe did. He was sixteen. Not five.

And Tony wasn’t his dad.

Peter didn’t want him to be. He _had_ a dad, even though he was gone. He had a mother, and an uncle, and he had May. May on her own had always been enough. And he knew Tony cared about him. The kidnapping incident had proved that. Peter still went cold every time he remembered listening to Tony cry, thinking he was alone. That Peter was gone.

A knock on Peter’s door made him jump. “Underoos? You in there?”

It was like he had summoned him. Peter hastily shoved some dirty dishes he had meaning to return to the Compound kitchen under the bed. “Yeah, come in.”

Tony pushed the door open, looking like he’d just come from the workshop. There was still grease up one arm that he either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t bothered to wash off. “I feel a pressing urge to tell to clean your room. I don’t care for it.”

“I will. Later.”

“Hey, it’s your space. Although if you bring rats into my Compound then we might have to have words.” Tony was already in the room, owning the space like he always did, checking the bed for more dishes before he sat down. “Sit.”

Peter did – although he elected to take the desk chair than sit next to him on the bed as he usually would have. If Tony noticed, he didn’t comment on it.

“I missed you at lab time – what happened?”

Peter shrugged. “Homework.”

Tony frowned. “That weird urge is back. It’s saying that I should tell you that while I love our lab time, school is more important. Maybe May is rubbing off on me.”

An awkward silence fell between them, Peter shuffling in the chair. He _never_ had awkward moments with Tony.

“Ok.” Tony seemed to come to a decision. “Look, I’m not the best at this. But I’m here to check-in. How are you?”

Peter eyed him warily. He hadn’t been that obvious about his feelings towards Harley being here, had he? “I’m fine, Mr Stark. Really.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh we’re back to Mr Stark now, are we? I thought we’d broken that habit.”

Peter shrugged, which only made Tony seem even more uncomfortable.

“Look,” he said, and Peter could tell he was itching not to go for the glasses currently hanging off his t-shirt collar. “I know things have been different, lately.”

Peter’s breath hitched. Tony knew. He was here to call Peter out on it, to tell him to stop being so childish. _Harley_ wasn’t being childish.

Then Tony continued. “With Bruce coming back, and then Barnes…I know I’ve been really busy. And I’m sorry for that.”

Peter was already shaking his head at him. “You don’t need to be sorry for that. It’s important.”

“So are you,” Tony pressed. “Especially after…kid, you just got kidnapped and buried alive. I shouldn’t be leaving you on your own so much.”

“I’m fine,” Peter insisted. “And I’m not on my own. Everyone at the Compound has been great, and when I’m not here I’ve got May and Ned.”

“Ok,” Tony sighed. “Good. That’s good. And I know you have them, and that you’ll always have May, but…” Tony ran his hands through his hair. “I just don’t want you to skip out of lab time because you think I have better things to do. Because that’s not it. I’ll never have better things to do. Unless the world is ending, in which case I might have to jet, but that’s only because you can’t really have lab time without a lab. And if you need to skip it to do homework or whatever I understand – but don’t flake out because of me, alright? Breaking the cycle, and all that.” 

Peter tried not to flush. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t apologize, kid. Just wanted to make sure that was straight between us, ok?”

Peter managed a smile. “Ok.” He had known he was being stupid, but the conversation with Tony confirmed it. “Maybe…maybe we can make up some time tomorrow?”

Some of the tension in Tony’s shoulders released, just a little. “Sure, swing by after school – I got something I want to run by you anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing wonderfully exciting – for SI, not the Avengers. Still, a younger person’s opinion wouldn’t be missed. You and Harley can review it together, yeah? Let us old folks know what you think?”

Peter’s heart sank. “Harley’s coming?”

“Yeah.” Tony’s eyes narrowed. “That a problem?”

_Yes._ “No. Well,” Peter cast about for a suitable reason. “I wanted to show you some new web-shooters, but I can’t really do that if Harley’s around. You know, because, Spider-Man, and everything.” An ice-cold thought occurred to him. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

Tony was shaking his head, still looking suspicious. “That’s your secret to do with what you like, kid. But if you want my opinion, you might as well tell him now, unless you want to be sneaking behind his back until college.”

_“College?”_

Tony’s frown deepened. “Yeah. He lives here now. You sure everything’s ok?”

“Yes,” Peter said quickly. “No, that’s great. That’s real nice of you.”

“Ok.” Tony wasn’t convinced. “We’ll keep the Spider-Man stuff on the down-low for now though, alright?”

“Thanks, Mr- Tony.”

“Alright. You should get to know him – you’ve got a lot of common. Knows almost as much about tech as you do and that’s without the fancy education. I was actually thinking of maybe setting him up at that genius school of yours. God knows he’s bright enough to get in.”

Of course he was.

“I haven’t asked him yet, though.” Tony stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You coming down for dinner?”

“Um, not hungry.”

“Well, now I know that’s a lie.”

“Just a lot of homework to do.”

Tony seemed to take the words as a dismissal, because he made his exit, pausing in the doorway. “Just…if you need to talk. We can. About anything.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.” Tony looked like he wanted to say something else, but seemed to decide against it as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

Peter let a long breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror again.

Sixteen. Not five. Practically an adult.

Before he knew what he was doing he was outside the door to Tony’s workshop, where F.R.I.D.A.Y. had told him Harley was. He had nothing against Harley. Tony liked him enough to invite him to live with him. The Avengers had seemed to like him enough to agree without much complaint. So Peter should like him too, right?

He went to knock, reminded himself that he had as much right to be here as Harley – if not more – and then pushed the door open without asking, pausing when he heard the older boy on the phone. “Yes. Yes, I told you. I’m living here now.” 

Peter hesitated, not wanting to eavesdrop, but also not wanting to call attention to his position in the doorway by backing out again.

“Yes,” Harley insisted. “That hasn’t changed, ok? Of course, I still want that.” Harley’s voice broke on the last word.

Ok, this sounded private. _Very_ private. Peter went to back away, only for Harley to choose that moment to turn around, catching sight of him the doorway. There was an awkward pause as the boys stared at each other. “I gotta go,” Harley said into the phone and hung up, his voice back to normal. “Hey, Parker. You need something?”

Like it was _his_ workshop. The words weren’t made any easier to swallow when Peter saw what Harley was holding. “Put those down.”

Harley barely glanced up from where he was handling one of Peter’s web-shooters, turning it about in his hand as he stuffed the phone back into a pocket. “Oh, hey. You know how this thing works?”

“Yes.” Peter’s voice was clipped, and he strove to make it friendlier. “Spider-Man doesn’t like people messing with his stuff so you should probably, you know, not touch -”

There was a snap that echoed through the workshop as the web-shooter broke in two. “Oops. Sorry.” Harley didn’t sound sorry.

“Put it back.”

“Dude, relax, a piece just came off. I can fix it.”

“I said, put it back.”

Harley raised his eyebrows at him, but replaced the web shooter on the workbench. “So you get to work with Spider-Man, huh? How come he’s never around?”

Peter stepped fully into the lab, closing the door behind him. “Because he’s busy. You know, being a hero and stuff.”

“Yeah, but all the other heroes are always here,” Harley pointed out. “Except for Tony.” _Tony._ Just like that. “And Rhodey, I guess. But the others are nearly always here otherwise, when they’re not on missions. Why isn’t Spider-Man? Or is he not an official Avenger?”

“He is,” Peter insisted.

Harley raised an eyebrow at him in an uncanny mirror image of Tony. “Defensive, much? What, is he your favorite or something?”

“Obviously Iron Man’s my favorite. Isn’t he yours?” The words sounded childish even as Peter said them, and he winced inwardly.

Harley shrugged. “Obviously Tony’s great. I kind of dig the Winter Soldier though.”

_“What?”_ Peter hadn’t had any interaction with Bucky Barnes outside of their skirmish in Germany. He knew the deal; Bucky had been brainwashed by Hydra, someone named Shuri who Natasha had said Peter should meet had fixed him. While Peter was fully on board with someone who had been abused for decades getting the fresh start they deserved, he still couldn’t get the image of the blank-eyed Winter Soldier holding a detonator to that collar around Tony’s neck.

Harley shrugged. “Winter Soldier. You know, the villain to hero kind of thing. The redemption arc. I dig that.”

“I guess.” Peter cast about for something else to say. He’d come here to try and make friends, after all. “Tony mentioned you might, um, start going to my school.”

Harley shrugged, leaning casually against one of the workbenches. Peter’s workbench. “Maybe. Sounds like a bunch of posh assholes to me.”

Peter crossed his arms. “Most of them are actually really nice.”

“Yeah. Sure.” There was more to Harley’s tone than Peter could decipher, but before he could press further, the hairs on the back of Peter’s neck stood bolt upright.

Peter looked around, ignoring Harley’s confused look. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Is there someone in the building who shouldn’t be?”

_Danger danger danger –_

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Peter called again, feeling cold when he didn’t get an answer.

“Parker? What are you on about?”

“We need to go,” Peter decided, just as all the lights in the workshop went out. “Harley! _Run!”_

Peter felt the blow before it came, swinging around and catching the fist before it collided with the back of his head, pushing back.

“Woah,” a male voice rang out in the silence. “You’re strong. That’s pretty cool.”

And then the owner of the voice was pressing back against Peter’s fist. And _winning._

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.!” Peter called out as he was slowly forced to his knees. Was the guy he was fighting getting _stronger?_ “Get help!”

“Not today,” the voice said with mock sadness as the generator kicked in, flooding the workshop in an eerie red light. Peter could finally make out the face of his attacker – or what he could see of it behind a mask that covered most of his face. But he just looked like…a guy. Not like Captain America or anything. And he was stronger than Peter was.

It was at that moment that Peter noticed that his danger sense had vanished.

The strong guy threw Peter aside as though he weighed nothing, and Peter hit a workbench before his reflexes could kick in and catch up. In fact, they still weren’t kicking in. Also, _ow._

“Stay away from me!”

Harley’s voice got Peter back in action, scrambling to his feet before having to catch the workbench for support. Harley was fighting off a large, muscular woman, also masked, who had his arms pinned behind his back. He was putting up a decent fight though, managing to free himself by elbowing her in the ribs. She let go with an _oof,_ but the strong guy had already caught Harley by the elbows, holding him back. Then he paused, looking from Peter to Harley. “Wait. There’s two of them?”

“Let me go!” Harley was still squirming. “And there’s only one of me, assholes, and that’s more than enough to kick your – _mmph!”_

He was cut off mid-sentence as the strong guy clamped a hand over his mouth. Harley’s eyes met Peter’s then, the first dash of fear Peter had seen from him showing. That was enough to get Peter moving again, staggering forward. How hard had this guy thrown him? “Get off him.”

The strong guy smirked at him. “Or what? You look awful skinny kid. Not sure what you’re going to do to me without your precious powers.”

_Without his –_

The realization must have shown on Peter’s face, because the strong guy – no, the guy who was strong because he’d _stolen Peter’s powers_ – sent him a mock pitying look. “Don’t worry, kid. I’m sure you have lots going for you without them. Or,” he looked Peter up and down. “Maybe not.”

Harley’s foot suddenly came down on the guy’s insole. It probably would have made anyone else let go, but the guy bared flinched. “Which one is the one we’re looking for?” the guy mused, as the woman glanced nervously at the door.

“Come on. We got one – that should be enough. Let’s go.”

Harley’s eyes went wide and, ok, no matter what Peter’s personal feelings were towards Harley Keener, he wasn’t going to let him get dragged away by some guy who now had all of Spider-Man’s powers. He stepped forward. “Wait!”

Peter swallowed as he took in the scene around him. He didn’t feel nearly as confident doing this as he would have been with his powers, but he’d been kidnapped before, and Tony had found him. And after he had been trained for this – drilled relentlessly by Natasha until he knew what to do in any hostage situation. Harley hadn’t.

The choice was obvious. “Take me instead.”

Harley tried to shake his head at Peter, but the guy was holding his mouth too firmly, pressing Harley’s head against his chest. “We only need one,” the woman insisted. “I don’t even know if I can jump four of us.”

The guy was considering though. “Stark will cooperate faster if we have both. And if he doesn’t, we can use one to send a more, let’s say, _urgent_ message. Bet he gives us what we want for the second one then.”

Goosebumps erupted up Peter’s arms and, from the look on Harley’s face, he could tell the other boy was feeling the same. “Come here then,” the woman ordered, but Peter shook his head.

“I said take me instead. You already said you don’t need both of us, so let him go.”

The man’s response was to shift the hand on Harley’s mouth to his throat instead, squeezing just hard enough to for Peter’s heart to skip a beat. “Come here,” the man insisted. “Or I’ll be leaving Stark a very different message in his lab than a ransom note. Although,” he considered. “One kid’s corpse is probably pretty good motivation to get the other one back alive.”

Harley’s eyes were shut now, taking short breaths as the man’s hand tightened. “Ok!” Peter practically ran to where the kidnappers were standing. “I’m here. Don’t hurt him.”

“I’m still not sure -” the woman started, but the man cut her off.

“Grab the small one and let’s go.”

Peter just had time to exchange one more look with Harley before there was a hand squeezing his arm far too tightly, and the workshop fell away around them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came back to editing this after writing Dollhouse and it was like whiplash. I love how varied the characters are in the MCU, and the different stories they give my writer's brain. And now...on with the whump!

When Peter woke with a pounding headache, unable to move his hands, his first thought that he had been put right back under Tony’s workshop floor. 

He took a deep breath, trying to steady the rising nausea. He knew that feeling. He’d had the exact same feeling when he’d woken up, underground, unable to move or see or speak –

“Parker?”

Willing himself not to throw up, Peter raised his head, noting that while his arms were pinned behind what felt like a chair, he could move his head and legs. He took another breath, steadying himself. Something was biting into both wrists, but it wasn’t the same chains from the Siberian bunker. In fact, it felt like nothing more than plastic.

Peter almost laughed. A zip-tie? Really? It wasn’t even one of the heavy-duty ones. He tugged, expecting it to break like paper.

It remained tight, and Peter remembered. That guy had stolen his powers. He wasn’t Spider-Man anymore. He was just Peter Parker. Weak, useless, high-school-bully-target Peter Parker.

“Parker! Say something! You’re really starting to freak me out here.”

Peter forced himself to concentrate, a second figure coming into focus. Like him, Harley was tied to a chair, although Peter noted they had secured Harley’s ankles as well, and he was sporting a rapidly growing black eye. “I woke up before you did,” Harley explained. “Tried to fight back. They didn’t like that much.”

“Shouldn’t…shouldn’t fight.” Then Peter leaned forward and expelled the contents of his stomach onto the floor. 

“That’s gross, dude.”

Peter glared at him, trying and failing to spit the taste out of his mouth. “Where…kidnappers?”

Harley jerked his head to behind Peter. Peter could just about crane his neck around to see a door. A plain, boring, if most likely locked door. The room they were in was otherwise featureless, the walls all rotting wood and no windows. Peter shivered, cold seeping in now that the nausea was starting to abate. At least he didn’t have to worry about not being able to thermoregulate anymore.

“They said they were going to wait until you woke up, then they were going to call Tony.” Harley struggled against his bonds again, but they held fast. “Dammit. Nothing. You?”

Peter pulled against the zip-tie, brain not comprehending the idea that there was one piece of plastic between him and freedom. “Maybe later.”

“The jump really took it out of you, huh?

“The what?”

“Jump. It’s what the woman called it when she transported us from the workshop into this room. Well, I assume she did. Knocked me out too, but it seemed to have hit you harder.”

“Great,” Peter groaned. It felt just like when he had woken up in the workshop. Had the same kidnappers returned then? But Aceso was dead, and they hadn’t had any repeat incidents in well over a month. Tony had been sure it had been safe since Ross’s arrest and the release of the illegally detained enhanced. He wouldn’t have let Harley come live with them otherwise.

Harley’s earlier words suddenly registered. “They’re calling Tony?” Peter asked.

“Yep.” Harley looked as pissed off about it as Peter felt. “But don’t worry – I’ll get us out of here before they can get this far.”

_Harley_ thought he was going to get them out? “No,” Peter said quickly. “Don’t give them an excuse to hurt you further. You heard what they said about…”

“About killing one of us.”

Peter swallowed. “Yeah. But if…” He hated saying it, but it wasn’t just his life at stake, it was Harley’s as well. “Maybe if we both behave, they’ll leave us alone until Tony comes.”

Harley didn’t listen, still trying to wrest out of his bonds. Peter fought the urge to roll his eyes, and left him to it.

If only he had his powers, he’d be out of here in no time. He wouldn’t have let them get taken in the first place.

Wait. _Wait._ What if whatever that guy had done to him was permanent?

No. He couldn’t think like that. There had to be away to get his powers back – there _had_ to be.

Peter didn’t think that Tony would ditch him just because he no longer had superpowers; their relationship had come too far for that. But most of their time together was spent on Spider-Man related tech or Avengers missions.

The Avengers. He couldn’t be an Avenger anymore.

There was still the suit, but Tony fussed over him already with the super-strength and enhanced healing factor. There was no way Tony, or any of the others in the team, were going to let a sixteen-year-old who struggled with high school bullies out into the field with them, high-tech suit or not. He had gotten himself kidnapped, twice, while he _had_ the powers, and now -

“Parker? Hey – Parker _. Peter.”_

And now he wasn’t Spider-Man anymore.

“Dude, can you chill? You’re kind of freaking me out.”

Peter realized he wasn’t breathing, but the stab of anger he felt at the words was enough to snap him out of it. “You want me to be chill? Are you serious?”

Harley glared right back. “What is your problem with me, Parker?”

_“_ I don’t have a problem.”

Harley didn’t buy it. “Ever since I got to the Compound you’ve had this attitude about me. And I’m pretty sure I know why, so cut it out already.”

Peter blinked at him. “What do you mean, you know why?”

Harley shrugged. “Pretty obvious. And you didn’t need to be here. If you had just stayed out of it, they would have left you alone.”

“I was trying to save you!”

“Yeah? Great job.” They glared at each other for moment before Harley asked, “What do think they want? Money? It’s got to be money, right, if this is about Tony?”

“Tony won’t pay it,” Peter answered. “But last time…they wanted something else. Access to his private server. Not that it matters - he’s wiped everything important from it.”

“What do you mean, _last time?”_

Before Peter could answer, he heard the door opening behind him and quickly shut his mouth. It was beyond disconcerting to not be able to hear or sense people coming, and all too soon the masked kidnappers were back in the room with them.

Harley glared up at the woman. “Can’t you, like, teleport? So what’s the point of the door?”

The quip earned him a slap to the face that had Peter hissing, “ _Harley_. Behave.” Harley was already hurt; Peter didn’t want them to make it worse.

Harley winced but otherwise ignored the slap, eyeing a phone in the woman’s hands. Peter felt a shot of hope when he saw it – Tony could track a phone.

Without warning, a pair of vice-like hands came down on Peter’s shoulders, and he flinched. He hadn’t realized just how enhanced his senses had become until his powers have been taken away. “Come on,” the guy said, dragging Peter’s chair along the floor until he was side-by-side with Harley, almost touching shoulders. Peter felt ice in his stomach. A ransom call. _Another_ one. Tony was never going to trust him to handle himself ever again, powers or not.

The man was still standing behind Peter, cupping his chin. “Do you think I need to rough this one up as well?”

“You don’t need to do that,” Harley said quickly before the woman could answer. “Tony will pay for him without it.”

The man cuffed Peter around the head. “This one said he wouldn’t.”

Dammit. Super-hearing was annoying when you weren’t the one who had it. Peter cast about for an answer. If he was on his own, he would have told them that Tony didn’t pay ransoms, but the threat of one of them dying if Tony didn’t cooperate was still hanging in the air.

“He didn’t last time,” the woman pointed out. “Managed to find the brat before he started rotting under that fancy workshop of his. Hung up on Janus, remember?”

Peter glared back at her, even as he felt his heart stutter a little. Then suddenly, they both laughed, as though they had told an excellent joke. The hands still on Peter’s shoulders squeezed down, almost making him yelp. “Don’t worry, kid. We’re not after money this time. Stark has made it clear that you’re not worth a trip to the bank.”

Peter barely had time to gather himself before the phone was being shoved in his face as the man switched crossed the room to switch his hold from Peter to Harley. “You seemed awfully keen to protect this one back in Stark’s little lab. I assume that hasn’t changed.”

“No,” Peter muttered. “It hasn’t.”

“Sweet,” the woman cooed. “What is he, your boyfriend? Young love?”

“You got a problem with that?” Harley practically snarled at her, lunging forward, but the man tightened his grip on his shoulders, holding him back.

“Touchy,” the woman commented, starting to dial, and directing her next words at Peter. “You speak when spoken to, and if you try to give anything about us or our location away, my friend there is going to hurt that one. Ok?”

Peter nodded. “Good boy.” The woman went so far as to ruffle his hair, then hit the call button.

Tony answered on the first ring. _“Where are they?”_

“You know, you really should look into your security, Stark. Seems your interns keep getting lost.”

Peter heard Tony take a long breath over the phone, calming himself. _“You’re not getting anything out of this except a jail sentence. So let them go, and let’s call it an early night, yeah?”_

The woman’s voice turned cold. “We’ll let our prisoner go when you release yours.”

There was a pause over the end of the phone, then Tony replied, _“You’re going to have to be more specific.”_

“Melinoe,” the woman snapped, and Peter went rigid with surprise. One of the enhanced who had tried to hurt Tony? But she’d run away. The Avengers had never found her. “I know you have her. We have your kid and his boyfriend. Sounds like a fair trade, doesn’t it?”

Another pause then, _“He’s not my kid.”_

It happened so fast that Peter almost got whiplash from jerking his head around at Harley’s harsh cry. The man had one of his bound wrists in a tight grip, squeezing the bone.

“Don’t play with us, Stark,” the woman hissed. “You can see the resemblance. You let him live with you, work with you. We know you don’t care about a lot, but even a man like yourself has to care about his son, doesn’t he?”

_“Ok,”_ Tony said quickly. “ _Fine – you don’t need to hurt them anymore, ok?”_ There was a brief patch of static over the line, and Peter knew that was Tony’s cover to confer with whoever was in the room with him for an action plan. Whether or not Tony would trade was moot. The Avengers didn’t _have_ any prisoners. _“You want to talk trade – prove you have both of them. I only heard one.”_

The woman practically shoved the phone in Peter’s mouth she was holding it so close. “That’s your cue, kid. Tell Stark to come save you.”

Peter wanted to do anything but, but one look at Harley’s pained expression was more than enough to convince him. “Mr Stark?”

_“Peter? Are you hurt?”_

Peter hesitated, trying to think of a way to tell Tony that he wasn’t Spider-Man right now without being suspicious. His hesitation cost him though – or, more accurately, cost Harley. Peter heard a sickening crack and his stomach turned as he heard a scream to his right. Harley was leaned back in his chair, breathing hard, the man clutching his broken wrist.

Peter recalled falling from a high ceiling in Siberia and felt sick even before he heard the barely disguised fear in Tony’s voice. _“Peter! Goddamit kid, talk to me!”_

“I’m ok,” Peter said quickly, blinking away unwanted tears. He’d messed up. He’d gotten Harley hurt. “Me and Harley are both here.”

_“Is Harley ok? Can I speak to him?”_

“Don’t give them anything, Tony!” The words cost Harley a hard squeeze on his broken wrist but he bit down on his lip, trying not to cry out again.

_“You care about Melinoe, yeah? You want her back - unharmed?”_

That finally got their captors to still, glancing nervously at each other. 

_“Yeah, I thought so. Not so fun when it’s someone you care about being threatened, is it?”_

The man nodded at the woman who held out the phone to him. “Anything you do to her we do to your son, got it?”

_“Two can play at that game, pal, so watch it. I’m guessing I’m on speaker right now – don’t hang up if you want to see your friend again. Peter? Harley? Hold on, and look out for each other – I’m coming to get you.”_

“Cute,” the woman said, holding the phone back to Peter. “We’ll talk rendezvous in a moment, Stark, but first – I think you’ve got someone who wants to say something else.” 

Peter frowned at her, confused.

“Peter,” he heard Harley say, his voice low and pained.

Peter turned his attention to the other boy, whose unbroken wrist was now in the man’s super-strong grip. “Don’t,” Peter said quickly. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”

“Then say it.”

“Say what?”

The man gripped Harley’s wrist a little tighter. Tony’s words echoed in his head _. Look out for each other._

Peter scrambled around for what they were expecting him to say as Harley rammed his eyes shut, waiting for the second break. Then he remembered the woman’s words from earlier.

Damn. He really didn’t want to say it. There were so many other things he would have rather done than say it. But watching Harley get his other wrist broken wasn’t one of them.

Gritting his teeth, he forced the words out. “Come save me, Mr Stark.”

“Good boy.” The woman ruffled his hair again, then she grabbed her partner, and the two vanished.

“So now they teleport,” Harley rasped, clearly fighting through a lot of pain.

“Tony’s on his way,” Peter tried to assure him. “He can track that phone in seconds.” He remembered Natasha’s lessons. “The best thing we can do is stay out the way when he gets here.”

“Is that what you usually do? Wait for Tony to come and save you?”

“What? _No!”_

“Come save me, Mr Stark,” Harley mimicked. “Spare me.”

“I said that so he wouldn’t hurt you!” Peter tugged on the zip-tie again. “I didn’t _want_ to say it.” _And I wouldn’t need saving if I had my damn powers back._

“Well, don’t say it again.” Unwilling to move his wrists, Harley tried to break his ankles free instead, to no avail.

“Fine. Enjoy having two broken wrists.” Peter slumped in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He was never going to live this down.

“What did you mean, last time?” Harley demanded, snapping Peter back to reality. “And who’s Melinoe?”

“That’s Avengers business.”

“I think it’s my business if she’s getting me kidnapped.”

“Fine. Enhanced, like these guys. She can transform substances into solids, liquids, or gases.”

“That sounds…useless.”

“She trapped Tony in a table while one of her friends re-enacted his arc reactor surgery on him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Poor Tony.” Harley took another shaky breath. “That’s one of my questions answered. They said last time? Last time you got kidnapped? When? Parker,” Harley pressed when he didn’t get a response. “We can’t just wait around for Tony. If we can help him in any way, we need to do it. And that requires you sharing information with me.”

Peter bit back a retort that he wasn’t just waiting for Tony to show up and save them like some scared kid – he was doing what a highly trained assassin, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and Avenger had instructed him to do in this exact situation. And when did he become the kind of person who had to bite back retorts anyway? Even Flash didn’t get under his skin this badly.

“Fine,” he agreed, trying to keep the bite out of his voice. “A few weeks ago, someone – I guess this woman and Melinoe – grabbed me and put me under Tony’s workshop floor.”

“And you couldn’t get out of that?”

“No,” Peter said shortly.

“Even as Spider-Man?”

Peter’s world started to spin in a way that had nothing to do with the leftover nausea from their ‘jump’ with their kidnapper. “What? No, I’m not…I’m not Spider-Man.”

“Dude, for someone with a secret identity, you’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m a great liar! I lie all the time…like all the time.”

Harley rolled his eyes in such a good imitation of Tony that Peter recalled something else from their kidnappers’ dialogue. “Wait. Are you…” He swallowed. It would make sense, given Tony’s playboy past. “Are you actually Tony’s son?”

“Don’t try and change the subject.”

“I’m not – they called you Tony’s son. Are you?” That would explain a lot. Like _a lot_ a lot. Why Harley had come straight to Tony after his mom had kicked him out. Why Tony had taken to him so quickly, the affection between them.

Harley’s expression was equally confused. “I thought they were talking about _you_.”

“Me? No, Tony’s not…” Peter shook his head. “My parents died when I was little. Plane crash.”

“Oh. That’s rough.”

“I live with my aunt now.”

“I’m sorry.” Harley shifted, wincing as the movement jostled his wrist. “What do think the chances are of bathroom breaks?”

“I’d say about zero.”

“Damn. So you’re _not_ Tony’s son?”

“No. We met because of -” Peter broke off, quickly amending. “I’m his intern.”

“Right, because Tony Stark suddenly takes on personal interns.” Was it just Peter’s imagination, or was there a note of bitterness in Harley’s voice? “So if it’s not because you’re his son, it’s because you’re Spider-Man, right? Come on,” he pressed when Peter continued to splutter denials. “I never see Spider-Man around the Compound, but I see you. You practically had a fit when I touched your web-shooters -”

“I did _not_.”

“- and I saw you try and punch that asshole before he stole your powers. That is what happened, right? He stole your powers?”

Peter sighed, not seeing the point of pretending anymore. “Ok, yes, fine. I’m Spider-Man. Usually. I’m not right now.”

“What do you mean, not right now?”

Peter jerked on the zip-tie. “No suit. No powers. No Spider-Man.” He caught Harley’s expression. “What?”

“Nothing, just…” Harley broke off, changing course. “Can you get them back? Your powers?”

“I don’t know.”

Some of the desperation must have crept through into Peter’s voice, because Harley's tone grew kinder. “I’m sure Tony or Bruce or someone at that Compound can figure that out. But, you know, it’s not the end of the world if they can’t”

“It’s not the end of -” Peter stared at him. “I use those powers! To help people.To make a difference.”

“Hm.”

_“What?”_

Harley met his gaze. “So now you’re just like the rest of us. I’m so sorry, how awful for you.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “You realized if I had them we’d probably be home by now, right?”

Harley shrugged, as best he could. “They’re just bullies. Bullies I’ve had practice with.”

Peter’s glare lost some of its ferocity. “You…you get bullied?”

“Oh yeah,” Harley replied casually. “There’s this little thing in the world called homophobia. You might have heard of it.”

_Ever since I got to the Compound you’ve had this attitude about me. And I’m pretty sure I know why._

Peter flushed. “I’m not homophobic.”

“Good for you.”

“I’m not,” Peter insisted.

“Didn’t say you were.”

“Then what did you mean about me having this attitude about you?”

“Are you denying it?”

Peter flushed. Maybe his next lesson with Natasha should be on how to lie.

“So you’re not Tony’s son?” Peter clarified instead.

“Definitely not,” Harley confirmed. “Tony can be an asshole, but even he can’t rival dear old dad.”

“Don’t call Tony that.”

“What, an asshole? He can be, and he knows it. He owns it. It’s part of his whole thing.”

“Tony doesn’t have a _thing.”_

Harley rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, sure, fine. Maybe someone like you can’t see it.”

“What do you mean someone like me? What does that even _mean?”_

Harley frowned. “Not all us can be upper class, Parker.”

Peter was so surprised that he laughed. “ _Upper class?_ I can barely afford Walmart jeans.”

Harley blinked at him, genuinely thrown. “What do you mean? _Look_ at your jeans!” 

“These?” Peter looked down at himself, realizing. “Oh. Tony bought me these. I didn’t ask him to. It’s not like I can wear them anywhere but the Compound anyway, not without raising questions.”

“But you go to that fancy school.”

“Yeah, on _scholarship_ ,” Peter emphasized. “My aunt and I live in a shoebox in Queens. Not that I mind. It’s home.”

Harley still wasn’t sold. “Then why do you call Tony ‘Mr Stark?’ That’s some rich people bullshit right there.” 

“Oh.” Peter looked at his shoes. “Yeah, he doesn’t like that either.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“It’s something my uncle kind of drilled into me,” Peter muttered. “Manners, and all that.”

“Sounds like a tightass.”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh. Sorry. Shit, sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“So…” Harley looked like he was re-running calculations. “So what _is_ your problem with me then? Did I do something to you?”

“Just…nothing. I don’t have a problem with you.”

“We’re tied to chairs in a windowless room. What, did you want to play charades?”

“That’s kind of hard when you’re tied to a chair.”

“Oh, so you can tell jokes. That’s good to know.” Harley gave him a crooked grin. “Well, I gotta say, I like you better now you’re not rich.”

“Tony’s rich.”

“I’ve learned to forgive him for that. So how can I make you like me better? What’s got your underoos in a twist?”

Peter blushed. “Yeah, look, I know it’s ok for Tony to call me that but -”

“For Tony to call you what?”

“Are you sure you and Tony aren’t related?”

“If we are then the Stark family owes me a heck an inheritance. Come on, Parker, spit it out. Why do you have it in for yours truly?”

Peter turned properly red. “It’s stupid.”

“Great. I love stupid. Hit me.”

“Just…” Peter took a deep breath. “Nothing.”

“Come _on_.”

“It’s nothing,” Peter insisted. “It was something but…it was really dumb, ok? And I knew it was dumb at the time but…” He broke off. “It’s over. I don’t have a problem with you. As long as you keep your hands off my web-shooters.”

Harley’s crooked grin was back. “No promises. So – should we get out of here?”

Peter shook his head. “Tony will find us. He found me last time. I think if we resist more, they’re just going to hurt us.”

“Come on,” Harley pressed. “Tony’s going to need our help on this. We’re both smart, let’s at least brainstorm.”

They were interrupted as the door banged open again. Peter yelped, still not used to people being able to surprise him as Harley flinched, then braced himself. The woman was arguing on the phone with a voice Peter could just make out as Tony’s as the man crossed the room and separated the two boys again, dragging Harley towards the back wall.

“Stop!” Peter cried out, kicking out and cursing when his foot missed by a mile. “Leave him alone!”

“Good thing we took two then,” the woman snarled into the phone and Peter’s heart dropped as the man curled his arms all the way around Harley’s neck. Harley went very still, locking eyes with Peter. The woman shoved the phone into her palm, muffling Tony’s panicked words as she eyed the two boys. “Alright. Confession time. Which one of you is Stark’s son?”

They both froze, looking at each other, unsure.

“Come on,” the woman snapped. “I don’t have all day. We know he has one. We were pretty sure it was this one,” she pointed at Peter. “Until Stark refused to pay his ransom the first time. But now we’re not so sure, are we? So you’re going to tell us.”

Harley replied with a particularly nasty string of cuss words that earned him a clip to the side of the head.

Peter was already putting the pieces together, his heart rate going through the roof. Powers or not, it was his job to defend people. Even though he really, _really_ didn’t want to do this.

_When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen? They happen because of you._

That was another lesson Ben had drilled into him before he’d died. 

“Harley’s his son,” Peter said in a quiet voice, trying to keep his breathing even, and failing. “It’s Harley.”

“What?” Harley demanded. “Peter, what are you on about? I’m not -”

“It’s him,” Peter insisted. “Harley is Tony’s son.”

The woman smirked as she raised the phone back to her ear. “Ok, Stark. I gave you your chance to save both. All you had to do was play ball and return Melinoe to us. But you decided to be difficult. Tell you what though – we’ll be nice, and leave your son alive. For now. His cute little boyfriend on the other hand…”

Peter forced himself not to close his eyes as the man released Harley and approached him instead. Harley had cottoned on, because he was fighting his bonds with everything he had, despite his injuries, looking at Peter desperately. “No! Stop! Don’t touch him!”

“You hear that, Stark?” the woman said into the phone. “I think your son’s going to need a new date to the prom.”

Peter’s heart was in his mouth, his breath rapid, making him dizzy. He was going to die. Oh god, he was going to die.

He tried to shove the panic down as arms thick with _his_ strength closed around his neck. He could do this. He could do the right thing. Even if he wasn’t Spider-Man.

Harley was yelling now, telling them to stop, Tony doing the same over the phone. Peter focussed on the latter, trying to find some comfort as the arms tightened around his throat and the man’s cold voice whispered in his ear, “Say goodnight, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t said thank you for comments in a while. That’s my bad, folks. Thank you for the comments, the kudos, the views. It soothes my anxious writer’s soul.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments, they make me so incredibly happy! Literally - every comment is a rush of that sweet, sweet dopamine. SCIENCE.

Peter had hoped he’d see his parents. He had hoped he would see Ben. Instead, he just saw white.

_“Peter!”_

He knew that voice. It continued speaking and slowly, far too slowly, the white retreated from Peter’s vision.

“- lose the powers.”

Then the vice-like grip was loosening and Peter was gulping air. It was like drinking sandpaper. The man’s voice in his ear was too loud, too harsh, and Peter flinched away from it as best he could, trapped in the man’s grasp. “What did you say to me, brat?”

“I said, how do you know if Peter dies that his powers won’t die with him?”

The man behind Peter hesitated even as the woman scoffed. “Come on. You’ll just get new ones. That witch girl is plenty powerful.”

“I like these ones,” the man griped.

“So kill the kid and keep them.”

“The powers are part of his DNA,” Harley insisted. “You don’t know what’s going to happen if he stops breathing.”

Tony’s voice was still yelling over the phone, so the woman snapped into it “For god’s sake, shut up, he’s fine.” She shoved the phone in Peter’s face. “Tell him you’re fine, or you won’t be for much longer.”

“I’m…I’m fine, Mr Stark.”

“ _Kid…_ ” Tony sounded heartbroken, but seemed to pull himself together. _“What was Harley saying about you not having your powers?”_

“Shit!” The woman slammed the phone shut so hard that Peter was surprised it didn’t snap in two. “So much for not giving Stark any information about us.”

“What?” the man snapped back. “Now he knows the kids are properly defenseless, maybe he’ll actually listen. Give him an hour or two to spiral a bit more, then let’s call him back. Not like he’s going to find us anyway.” He straightened up, smacking Peter over the back of the head for good measure, then he and the woman jumped out of the room again.

“Peter, talk to me – are you ok?”

Peter swallowed past the pain in his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ok.”

“Why would you _do_ that?” Harley knocked his head against the back wall, splintering the damp wood. Something scampered away within it. “Why would you…you knew they were going to…to _kill_ you. And you told them I was Tony’s son anyway.”

“Couldn’t let them…”

“Don’t do that again,” Harley ordered him. “Don’t, ok? God, I don’t think Tony would ever forgive me if -” He broke off, shaking his head. “Don’t do that again,” he finished, not sounding as sure as the first time. “Promise me.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re unbelievable, Parker.” Harley exhaled, long and slow. “That’s it. We’re getting out of here.”

Peter blinked away the rest of the fog, the pain in his throat really starting to set in now. He wondered vaguely how long it was going to take to heal without his powers. It was something he had stopped worrying about a long time ago. “Wait for Tony,” he insisted. “Natasha said…”

“What?” 

“Natasha said,” Peter continued, clearing his throat. “Hostage situation. Stay tight. Don’t piss off captors. Stay out of the way of rescue.”

“Uh-huh. And did she say what do to when that rescue wasn’t coming?” He pressed on. “They said Tony couldn’t track us.”

“Tony can track anyone.”

“Then why hasn’t he come yet? Peter, we don’t know how far that woman can teleport.”

The remaining color drained from Peter’s face. “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh._ What if the reason Tony isn’t here yet is because she took us halfway around the world? We don’t know how far away he is, if he knows where to come at all. We have to help him out a bit here. He’ll be expecting us to.”

Peter frowned at that. “What do you mean, he’ll be expecting us to?” Peter, maybe. But Harley?

Harley went still. “Well, you know, after the whole Mandarin thing…”

Peter was completely lost now. “What does the Mandarin have to with this? Isn’t he dead?”

“Wow.” Harley allowed himself a shaky laugh. “He really doesn’t talk about me at all, does he?” 

Slowly, Peter shook his head. “Um, no. Sorry. I didn’t know about you until you showed up. But he doesn’t talk about me either,” Peter hurried on, catching the hurt on Harley’s face. “Not outside of the Compound, like to the press, or anything. But that’s him trying to protect me. I’m sure that’s the exact same reason he never talks about you either. I mean, someone found out about your relationship and you were kidnapped within a week.”

“Oh.” Some of the tension went out of Harley’s shoulders. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What did you mean before?” Peter pressed. “When you said Tony will be expecting us to help him?”

Harley shrugged, the movement making him wince. “You said you were kidnapped by these guys before?”

Peter nodded.

“This isn’t my first rodeo as Tony Stark’s leverage either.”

“The Mandarin?” Peter guessed.

“One of his lackeys. Tony was fighting, but the bad guy dropped a water tower on him.” 

Peter winced he flashed back to his own experience under a collapsed building. “What happened?”

“The guy grabbed me, tried to use me as a bargaining chip. But Tony had given me this light thing because…because he had. And when he sent me the signal to use it on the guy I did, and Tony shot him with this makeshift repulser thing he’d built in my garage. Which was, you know, terrifying at the time but pretty damn awesome in retrospect.”

“What was the signal?”

Harley went quiet.

“Harley? You said you wanted us to try and get out of here, or send out a message or something to show where we are, right? So you if and Tony have a signal, that could be real helpful.”

“He gave me the light to fend off bullies.” The words came in a rush. “So when the guy had me, Tony said, “You remember what I told you about bullies, right?” and I shoved the light in his eyes and he let me go.”

Harley’s eyes were on the ground, not looking at him, but Peter was running calculations. If this had been around the time of the Mandarin then… “You were _eleven?”_

Harley shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s really badass, man.”

“Being bullied for most of your life isn’t _badass,_ Parker. They actually stopped for a few years, when I got bigger and learned how to punch back. Then I came out, and they started again.” He shifted, still not looking up. “More ways to bully than hitting someone in the face.”

“I get it,” Peter said softly, finally getting Harley’s eyes on him. “The kids at school…well, most of them are actually pretty nice, but there’s this one kid, um, Flash -”

“Flash?” Harley scoffed. “His name is _Flash_ and you’re the one getting bullied? That doesn’t sound right.”

Peter allowed himself a smile. “His real name is Eugene. Guess he thought Flash sounded cooler.”

“I thought they only let smart kids into that school?” Harley frowned. “Wait, but aren’t you…you’re Spider-Man. Why don’t you just kick his ass?”

“Because I couldn’t then, so I shouldn’t now. No one knows outside the Compound, except my aunt and my best friend Ned.” _And Toomes,_ he reminded himself with a shiver, but he was still in prison. “And now you, I guess.”

“Man, if I had superpowers…” Harley looked wistful. “I mean you could be famous. Like properly famous, like Tony. Bet that Flash kid wouldn’t pick on you then.”

“He’s actually kind of obsessed with Spider-Man.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, he’s like Flash’s hero.” They shared a laugh before Peter grew serious again. “I can’t tell anyone. I couldn’t do that to May, or Ned, or anyone. It would put them in danger.”

“That’s…that’s really…I guess the word I’m looking for is heroic.”

“Not really. Just how it has to be. Not that it matters,” he added in a small voice. “My powers are gone.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, so? You were just talking about how awesome it would be to have powers!”

Harley was watching him, carefully. “God, you’re so much like him sometimes.”

“Who?”

“Tony.”

Peter shifted in his chair. “I’m not.”

“You are. You’re just like him when he stumbled into my garage and I was threatening him with a potato gun.”

“You were _what?”_

Harley grinned. “Remind me to tell you the whole story when we get out of here. He was really hung up on that idea too. Not being Iron Man without the suit. Or the suit being all Iron Man was. He had a panic attack when he found out he had to break into the Mandarin’s mansion without it. I talked him through it.”

Peter felt another pang of jealousy that he stubbornly pushed away. He was done with that. Or he was trying to be done with that. He knew Tony had panic attacks, but he had a habit of locking Peter out of the lab whenever he felt one coming on.

“What did you tell him?”

“That he was the mechanic. Iron Man’s only here because Tony built him, right? In a cave. From scraps. While being held prisoner.” Harley raised his eyebrows at Peter as if to say, _Get it?_

“Ok,” Peter argued. “But take away the Iron Man suit and Tony’s still _Tony Stark._ I’m just…” Peter struggled uselessly against the zip-tie. “I’m just Peter Parker.”

“Well Peter Parker just saved my life with exactly zero tech and powers. I’m saying you can still be Spider-Man without the suit, in case that wasn’t obvious enough.”

Peter didn’t exactly agree, so he changed the subject. “Well, you saved mine back. That was quick thinking. Telling them that that guy might lose the powers.”

“Let’s not make him test that theory,” Harley said. “I vote we get out of here long before he gets a chance to. You with me?”

Peter took a breath. That guy had come close to killing him. Hanging out for rescue was no longer the safest option. “I’m with you,” he agreed.

Harley flashed him a grin. “Alright. Step one, get out of these chairs.”

Peter made a mental note to get either Natasha or Clint to teach him how to break out of restraints the way the spies seemed to do effortlessly. “It’s just a zip-tie,” Peter said. “And a thin one at that. I can’t pull it apart but maybe -”

“Maybe we can break it together?” Harley offered.

It took some shuffling around, but finally they ended up in a back-to-back position. “This would have been a lot easier before the broken wrist,” Harley griped Peter managed to get a hold of Harley’s bonds.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “I broke both of mine a few months ago…not fun.” He hooked an ankle around Harley’s chair, anchoring himself as he prepared to lean forward. “Speaking of broken wrists…this is going to hurt. Like, a lot.”

“I can take it,” Harley assured him. “I’m used to pain.”

“What? _Why?”_

“I think we’re done with the backstory portion of this chapter. Just get me free.”

Peter stored Harley’s words away for later. “I more meant…if you cry out. They’re going to come in here.”

“Oh. Right. Well, I won’t cry out then.”

“Harley…”

“Just get it over with.” Peter steeled himself, then began tilting forward on his chair while keeping a firm grip on the zip-ties binding Harley’s wrists. He heard Harley gasp but, true to his word, he didn’t cry out, even as Peter lost his balance, colliding with the ground still holding the plastic band.

The zip-tie snapped in two.

Both boys froze, waiting to hear if their captors had heard the thud. After a few moments, when they seemed to be in the clear, Harley turned himself around to face Peter, ankles still bound. “You alright?”

“Yep,” Peter groaned from where his face was pressed against the floor. “I’m great.”

“Good. Then let’s get you free, then you can get my ankles.”

Harley scooted over to where Peter was lying, getting one hand around the zip-ties. “Ok. On three, pull. One…two… _three!”_

Harley pulled. Peter pulled. Nothing happened.

Only when Peter felt something warm and wet drip onto his arms did he stop, pushing himself away as Harley tried to hold on. “Harley! Your hand.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s _fine.”_

“I don’t…” Peter closed his eyes. Yeah, definitely not a hero without the suit or powers. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to get me out with that wrist. But I can probably get your legs free.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Go,” Peter urged him. “Get help.”

“I’m not leaving you -”

“You have to,” Peter insisted, already maneuvering himself so he was gripping one of the ties on Harley’s ankle. “They still need me if they still think they’re going to get their friend back. But as long as both of us are here, one of us is disposable. If you leave, they still need me alive.”

“But -”

_“Pull.”_

The tie around Harley’s ankle snapped, even as Peter felt the plastic cutting into his palms. Now _he_ was bleeding. He ignored it, moving onto the second one. Harley bent down with his good hand and, together, they freed the older boy completely.

“Go,” Peter urged him before Harley could argue. “Get help.”

Harley swallowed, then bent down and used his good wrist and knees to haul Peter back to an upright position. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

“Only if it’s safe.”

“You’re unbelievable, Parker.” But Harley made his way across to the door, making a little sound of disbelief. “They didn’t even _lock_ it. Sometimes being underestimated has its advantages, I guess.”

Then he was gone.

Peter tried not to feel lonely as blood dripped from his hands into the floor behind him, hearing scurrying in the wall behind him. Probably a mouse, or a rat. 

He didn’t regret the decision; it had been the most logical course of action and the best chance they had of getting home. Still, he couldn’t deny that it sucked that Harley got to play hero while he was stuck in here tied to a chair. It was the second time he had gotten himself stranded, waiting on rescue. He was supposed to be Spider-Man. He was supposed to be the one doing the rescuing.

He was jolted out of his train of self-pity when he heard a shout from elsewhere in the building. Harley.

A minute later, the man was dragging a bloodied Harley back through the door, tossing him onto the ground at Peter’s feet. Harley peered up at Peter, speaking past a fast-swelling split lip. “S-sorry. I tried.”

He didn’t get the chance to say more. The man was hauling him back by his collar, cutting off his air.

“Stop it!” Peter cried, jerking in the chair. “Tony’s not going to give you back your friend if you hurt him!”

Neither of them was listening to him. The man held Harley still while the woman fixed a fresh zip-tie around his wrists, then leaned down so she was speaking right in his face. “You care about your boyfriend over there, right?”

Harley nodded, wary.

“We’re taking you back to your dad now. You’re going to do everything we say, and when we come back, we won’t rough the little one up too bad, ok?”

Harley’s eyes went wide as Peter’s stomach turned inside out. “What do you mean, when you come back?” Harley demanded.

“Well, like you said,” the man smirked. “If he gets hurt and dies, no more powers for me. Best I keep an eye on him, make sure he’s safe and sound here with us.”

“What?” Harley started struggling in earnest, although he was no match for the man’s super strong grip. “You can’t just _keep_ him!”

“Your dear old dad decided it was just fine to keep one of us,” the woman snarled back. “Now, open up.”

Harley tried to jerk his head out of the way but the man held it still as the woman shoved a cloth between Harley’s teeth, yanking the knot tight at the back of his head. Satisfied, she pulled out the phone, shooting a look at Peter. “Not a word. Stark thinks we’re bringing you both back and it’s staying that way.” She grabbed Harley’s chin, eyes still on Peter. “Got it, kid?”

“Yeah,” Peter said quietly. “I got it.” They were going to leave him here. They were going to teleport Harley back to safety and _leave_ him here, in a place even Tony couldn’t seem to find them.

The woman was already dialing. “We’re moving the timeline up,” she barked into the phone. “Bring Melinoe to the meeting point in the next thirty minutes, and the boys are free to go.”

She crossed the room, pushing the phone against Peter’s ear. _“Kid, you ok?”_

Peter looked over Harley’s battered face and shattered wrist. The man was gripping his shoulders, eyes on Peter.“Yeah…we’re both ok.”

_“Hang tight, we’re on our way to get you.”_

Peter swallowed, mind racing. This was probably his last chance to talk to Tony, to get some kind of message - any kind of message - across. “Mr Stark?”

The man grabbed Harley by the hair, yanking his head back, making the teenager grunt in pain. “Watch that mouth, kid.”

_“You are ok, yeah?”_

“Tell him yes,” the woman mouthed at Peter.

Peter scrambled for something, _anything_ to say, that would communicate that he really _wasn’t_ ok, while making sure Harley didn’t get hurt either. He couldn’t give him any hints as to where to was, because he didn’t have any clue, and neither did Harley. He wouldn’t be able to tell Tony anything about how to come back for him.

_I’m saying you can still be Spider-Man without the suit._

“I’m really ok,” Peter said, his voice steady. “Harley told me what you told him. About how to deal with bullies.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Tony as the woman slammed the phone shut. “Enough. Let’s go.” She went to rejoin her partner, then paused. “One more thing.”

Then she crossed the room and locked the door, slipping the key into her pocket.

“See you soon, kid,” the man winked at him, and then they were gone, leaving Peter alone in the locked room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That hostage scene in Iron Man 3 followed by the “cause we’re connected” scene after is one of my favorites in the MCU. Harley was such a great addition to Tony’s arc.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Rats

_Iron Man’s only here because Tony built him, right? In a cave. From scraps. While being held prisoner._

Peter wasn’t Tony. He had never expected to be, what, the next Tony Stark? The thought was beyond ridiculous, even with the powers, even with the suit. And right now he had neither.

Tony never talked about his time in Afghanistan. Peter respected that certain topics were taboo; Afghanistan, Siberia, Sokovia. If Peter was being honest, he hadn’t really ever even thought about Afghanistan, not in detail. There was a lot of talk about the before and after of Tony’s period of abduction, how he had come back a changed man. There was very little talk of what had happened _during_.

_He was really hung up on that idea too. Not being Iron Man without the suit. Or the suit being all Iron Man was._

The suit wasn’t Iron Man though - _Tony_ was. Peter couldn’t exactly explain why, but he knew that was the truth. Apparently Harley had too, even when he was just eleven years old. He’d tried to give the same advice to Peter.

Peter just couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

_If he gets hurt and dies, no more powers for me. Best I keep an eye on him, make sure he’s safe and sound here with us._

But it didn’t matter what Peter believed. It didn’t matter if he was Spider-Man or not. What _did_ matter was that he was in a place Tony clearly couldn’t find, given that he was still negotiating with his kidnappers hours later, and the Avengers were a no-show. What did matter was that his abductors had zero intentions of letting him go, ever. With no hope of rescue, Peter either got himself out of this, or he didn’t get out at all.

He twisted his chaffed and bleeding wrists, struggling against the zip tie. Now was his best chance - he didn’t know the next time he’d be alone, or when the man and woman would come back. Harley pulling on it had weakened the plastic, if only slightly. Peter could move his wrists a fraction more in the extra space, although there still wasn’t enough room to wriggle out.

He debated how likely it would be that he could break the chair instead, and settled on _not very._ He had tipped it over while untying Harley and it hadn’t so much as cracked.

Peter looked around the room for anything he could use instead. Nothing, except the door, Harley’s chair, and the destroyed zip-ties on the floor. There was nothing else but damp, slightly rotted wooden walls.

Wait. Slightly rotted?

_“Lightbulb,_ ” Peter whispered in a terrible European accent, as he started to shuffle sideways.

The building they were keeping Peter in wasn’t only old, it had to be secluded if they hadn’t even bothered to gag him before they left. Which probably meant it didn’t undergo repairs very often.

It took Peter several seconds to shuffle the chair until he was against one of the walls, and several minutes before he found a section of wooden wall that felt fractionally more dilapidated and run down than the others. Peter found the grossest, dampest part where two wooden panels joined, and took a deep breath. “Come on,” he muttered. “Please work. Please.”

He pressed with all his remaining strength, and felt his hands go straight through the wall.

Something crawled over his hands which Peter resolutely ignored, feeling instead in the damp wood until he found what he was looking for. A nail.

He couldn’t help a surprised laugh and a grin as he started rubbing the already weakened zip-tie against it, ignoring the chaffing of skin and the little rivulets of blood trickling down his wrists.

“Come on,” he repeated, as he worked the plastic. “Come on. Break. Break. _Break_ -”

It broke.

Peter wasn’t prepared and tumbled straight out of the chair, bashing his forehead on the musty floor. “Ok. Ow.”

Wincing, he pushed himself to his hands and knees. He was out of the chair. _He was out of the chair._

Now, he had to get out of the room.

It took one look at the door to know that he wouldn’t be able to pick the lock (he was going to ask Natasha for the entire spy crash course when he got back to the Compound). It looked newer and stronger than anything else in the room, not that that was saying much.

Peter took a breath. Ok. He couldn’t break or pick the lock. But maybe he didn’t need to.

His first thought was to check the wood around the lock, to see if he was able to break through it as well. No luck there - they seemed to have worked that little flaw out, at least around the door, and had nailed several other pieces of wood in place to reinforce it. Under and around the door were a no go as well.

Peter was just wondering if he could skip the door altogether and widen the hole he’d already made in the wall, when his eyes landed on the hinges.

Unlike the lock, these were far from new. They were as old as the rest of the room, rusted over with mold spots. And the wood around them looked just rotted through enough to make this work.

It only took a cursory once over from Peter to tell that he wouldn’t be able to break them out with just his hands. Instead, he returned to the wall-hole, feeling around for the nail.

He got a sharp nip on the finger instead.

Swearing, Peter jerked his hand back, staring down at where the blood was starting to bloom as a tiny, furry head poked its head out of the hole and squeaked at him.

“Hey there, little fella.” Peter took a couple of steps closer, swallowing down a wave of nausea as his finger started to throb. Didn’t rats carry all kinds of diseases? And he didn’t exactly have immunity to that kind of thing anymore.

He could worry about shots later; an infected bite was the least of his worries right now. Peter edged closer, repressing his growing revulsion. He didn’t have a problem with rats per se, but there was a big difference between Rat Damon in his school’s science lab and this ugly, dirty bastard currently baring his teeth as Peter grew closer. “Hey buddy,” Peter soothed him. “I just need to grab that nail right there. That ok with you?”

Clearly not. The rat hissed and spit, baring his teeth at him.

Peter picked up the chair he had been tied down in. “Sorry about this.” Then he slammed into the wood beside the rat, hoping to scare it off.

Instead, the back of the chair went straight through the rotting wall, leaving a basketball-sized hole through which Peter could see…

That was a lot of rats.

They were crawling over one another, panicking at the sudden noise and light. Swallowing down bile, Peter pushed his arm into the hole, wincing when a worm-like tail brushed his fingers. He worked the nail loose, all the while muttering “Don’t bite me don’t bite me don’t bite me -”

The nail came free.

At least the rats seemed keen to stay in the dark safety of the walls as opposed to spilling out into the room. Peter hurried back to the door, using the nail to start work on the hinges.

It was hard work, prying away rust and grime first until he could see the screws, then using the top of the nails to work them free. Or, that was the theory. In reality, the end of the nail was slightly too big and, try as Peter might, he couldn’t quite get enough purchase to undo the hinges. His hand was throbbing from where the rat hat bitten him, but he shut that out. “Ok, Spider-Man. New plan.”

He couldn’t unscrew the hinges, but the wood _around_ the hinges…

It wasn’t as rotted as the rest of the room, but it hasn’t been reinforced like the wood around the lock either. With regret and a grimace, he abandoned the nail he had reached into a rat den to retrieve and picked up the chair again. He began smashing away at the wood, frustrated when he found how easily he tired. He had to take breaks frequently, arms aching after just a few swings.

But, at last, the wood around the hinges splintered, just as Peter heard a door open from somewhere else within the building.

He had a second to be thankful that the woman hadn’t teleported straight back into the room they were keeping him in before the panic set in. If they found him, they’d tie him up more securely like they had Harley - or worse. He could hear their voices, but they were too low for him to make out words. Yeah, he really missed his super-hearing. At least it just sounded like the two of them - no Harley. Peter hoped that meant he was safe.

He tested out the hinge-side of the door. He could just pry it away from the doorjamb and slip through, but then he’d run straight into his kidnappers, who had powers while he didn’t. 

There were footsteps, quiet at first and then louder, coming nearer as the woman called back, “Yeah, I’m checking on him.”

Peter scurried away from the door, eyes darting around the room for any means of escape. The closest he could think of was using the chair as a weapon when she walked in, but she was so much stronger than he was and his arms were already aching and bleeding.

Then his eyes locked onto the hole in the wall behind the chair.

_No,_ some part of him rebelled. _There’s no way._

_You’d rather get caught?_

_Maybe._

The footsteps were nearly at the door now, so Peter swallowed down every inch of revulsion he had and wormed his way into the hole, thankful for the first time in his life for his skinny physique. He pulled the chair to cover the hole just as he heard the woman shout “What the hell?” and the door burst open.

“Cratos!” the woman yelled. “Get in here!”

Peter was barely listening. He had wrapped himself up in a tight ball, protecting his head and hands as much as he could as dozens of tiny feet crawled over him. He didn’t know what was worse; the fear of disease, the feel of claws clutching at his clothes, or the smell.

He tried to shut it out the best he could, focussing on anything else. The new suit design he had been working on with Tony. His and Ned’s latest LEGO project. May’s signature recipe for fish tacos that Peter had to sneak into the trash when she wasn’t looking.

Nothing worked. He risked lifting his t-shirt to cover his nose, but that revealed his stomach instead. A particularly fat rodent crawled across it, nose burying into his bellybutton.

“Cratos!” the woman screamed again. “The brat’s gone!”

A second pair of footsteps, then the man was crashing into the room. “Don’t use my name, are you crazy?”

“Are you kidding? Kid’s gone! And it’s not your real name anyway _, Simon._ ”

“Don’t call me -”

“Come on, he can’t have gotten far.”

_Yes, leave,_ Peter begged them. _Please leave please leave please -_

Retreating footsteps and fading voices meant that they had.

Everything in Peter wanted to burst out of the rat pit the second they were gone, but he forced himself to remain still even as claws in his back showed that one was climbing up his t-shirt. He didn’t move as it reached his shoulder, shoving its wet nose into Peter’s ear, scrabbling its paws in his hair.

Peter forced himself to count to one hundred. Then two hundred. Then he started again. When he reached a thousand, he still resisted the urge to bolt, instead moving as carefully as he could towards the hole so as not to startle the rodents into biting him. The one that was still lodged on his shoulder clung on stubbornly, scratching at him when he tried to dislodge it. Most of them scurried around Peter as he moved, but the bastard on his shoulder refused to let go. Peter was going to have to pry him off.

As he went to grip the rat around the middle, swallowing bile as he did so, it sank its teeth into his earlobe.

Peter couldn’t keep back the panic any longer. He threw himself at the hole in the wall, scrambling out, no longer caring how much noise he was making. A couple of the rats came with him, scrambling out the now-open door. The one locked onto his ear finally squeaked in indignation as Peter burst back into the light, and retreated to the safety of the dark hole.

Later, Peter would realize that the panic had actually worked in his favor, as the adrenaline propelled him out of the room and into the main living area.

Peter took several deep breaths, feeling like his skin was about to crawl off his body, he felt so disgusting. He could feel them still, on his clothes, in his hair, in his ears…

He shook himself. He’d gotten out of the room. His kidnappers were nowhere to be seen. He was hoping they thought he had fled the house and they had followed suit, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be back at any moment. He pulled in a breath, taking in his surroundings.

He appeared to be in an old-fashioned farmhouse. The decor was straight out the fifties and it looked like no one had lived here in a while going from the mold clinging to the curtains and the dust covering every surface. Just a place to stash prisoners then?

Peter darted to one of the windows, peering out. Night was falling, but he could just get a glimpse of green fields, and no other buildings in sight. His heart sank. He would still rather run into the winter night than stay here and face those two when they returned, and it would be cold but…

He allowed himself a shaky laugh. Well, at least he could thermoregulate now. 

Well, if his best bet was to run, he could at least prepare himself. He started making his way through the farmhouse, quickly confirming that his captors had just been using it to stash him and Harley away. The kitchen was functional but not stocked, most of the space taken up by an old-fashioned industrial oven. In fact, every piece of technology in the house looked like it was decades old. Heavy water pipes, a gas stove, even a typewriter. There were no laptops, or cellphones, or anything from the twenty-first century anywhere.

Peter did unearth a couple of musty blankets, despairing that he couldn’t find a change of clothes to replace his ones that now reeked of rodent, when he saw it. There, mounted to the wall. 

A phone.

It was a clunky, archaic thing, a horrible mustard yellow, and it was most beautiful sight Peter had beheld in his life. He dashed to it, dropping the blankets and almost crying with relief when he heard a dial tone as he picked up, slamming Tony’s number into the rotary dial.

Tony answered on the second ring. _“Alright, listen. I tried to play nice, but that’s done now. So tell me where you’re keeping Peter or I’ll -”_

“Tony. It’s me.”

_“Peter?_ ”

“Yeah.”

_“Don’t hang up,”_ Tony said quickly. _“F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s tracing the call. She can trace this one…did you get a new phone?”_

Peter looked at the relic in his hands. “I wouldn’t say that.”

_“Are you hurt?”_

Peter looked down at the trickles of blood, felt the throb from dozens of bite and claw marks. “I’m ok. Tony, I don’t have -”

_“Your powers, I know. Harley said. We’re going to fix that.”_

“Harley’s ok?”

_“Yeah, he’s fine. Thanks to you, kid. We’re going to return that favor now, alright? Tell me where you are, who has you, anything you can. How’d you get the phone?”_

“I tricked them, _”_ Peter explained. “I made them think I got out and they’re chasing me…but they’ll come back eventually, there’s some files and stuff here which look pretty important.”

“Ok, we’ll get to that. Tell me about the people who took you.”

“Man and woman. The woman called the man Cratos and then later Simon. I think Simon’s his real name? He’s the one who has my powers. I don’t know what the woman’s name is but she can teleport and -” Peter broke off, looking around at the low tech high out. Everything was analog; nothing electric. He remembered the lights going out just before he and Harley were taken, how their kidnappers would enter through the door to their prison but then teleport out. “I think when she jumps -”

_“When she what?”_

“Um, when she teleports. I think it disrupts technology when she does. They’d teleport after every time they’d call you. I think that’s why you couldn’t trace the cell phone they were using. I think that’s how they’re getting past F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

_“Yeah, that was our theory.”_ Tony swore, followed by a cry of triumph. “ _Alright, kid, I couldn’t trace that phone but I can sure as hell trace this one. You’re, um…you’re a bit far out, bud, but I’m on my way. As fast as I can.”_

The last word was cut off as a car pulled into the driveway.

“Tony,” Peter whispered. “I have to go.”

_“What? No, Pete, don’t hang up -”_

“They’re back. I’m sorry.” Peter slammed the phone back into its cradle, gathering up the dropped blankets. He had to hide and hide _now._

Arguing voices floated up the driveway as he heard the slamming of car doors. He’d wait until they were in the house, then he’d slip out the back door and go hide somewhere nearby until Tony showed up. For that, he needed to hide, somewhere downstairs.

He didn’t have a lot of time or choice, so he crawled into the walk-in pantry in the kitchen, covering himself in both blankets and tucking behind a stack of discarded milk crates. He felt like a kid playing hide-and-seek, and not a very competent one at that. His best hope was that they thought he was still out in the fields somewhere, and no longer in the house.

Their voices were muffled but Peter could make out the gist - fighting, and a lot of it. They clearly thought he had gotten away from them, and he allowed himself to breathe. It wasn’t over, but it was close to it. If they thought he was gone, they might even leave the farmhouse altogether and he’d have nothing left to do but wait for Tony show up and give him a ride home. To fresh clothes. To a _shower._

Peter was never, ever going within a thousand feet of a rat again.

May and Ben had always had a running joke about Parker luck. Every time misfortune befell someone in Peter’s family, they would shrug and say, “That’s Parker luck for you.” It wasn’t always said as a joke. Ben had said it after Peter’s parents had died; May had said it after Ben’s funeral.

Peter had never really believed in it. It was their way of saying, “Bad things happen and there’s nothing you can do but get through them.” And in the past year he’d become Spider-Man, met Tony Stark, and then become an Avenger. Well, Avenger-in-training, but still. So he couldn’t really be plagued with bad luck, could he?

Every doubt he had about Parker luck was obliterated when the rat fell directly onto his head.

Even if had his Spider-Man reflexes, Peter didn’t think he would have been able to stop the shriek that was ripped from his lungs as he scrambled upright, knocking his head on a pantry shelf.

The next few seconds were a blur. First he was scrambling to get the rodent off his head, and the next there were hands around his arms, tugging him to his feet and dragging him out of the pantry. He was still struggling even as the strong grip clasped around his arms in a reverse hug, pinning him to a warm chest and lifting his feet off the floor.

A sharp blow to the face knocked him out of his panic. His vision cleared, staring at the now unmasked woman in gazing at him. At the unmasked man staring down at him. They both had the same green eyes, the same slanted nose and dirty blonde hair. Siblings?

“Well,” Cratos said. “Guess we can’t ever let you go now.”

Peter slumped in his grip, trying to get his breath back. It was fine. Tony knew where he was. He was coming. It was fine.

Cratos shoved him forwards, almost throwing him into the woman's arms. "Hermes? Jump us out of here."

"Where?" Hermes demanded. " _This_ is the safehouse."

"Does it matter? Just get us out of here." Cratos gripped Peter by the chin, forcing his head up. "Get us somewhere where Stark will never think to look."


	5. Chapter 5

“Wait.”

Hermes’s eyes were roaming the room, ending on the phone. “You called him.” It wasn’t a question. “You called Stark.”

Peter considered his answer, trying and failing to worm out of Cratos’s grip, and decided that there was no point in lying. “Yes. He’s on his way.”

“Who cares?” Cratos snapped. “We’ll be long gone before he gets here.”

“Files first,” Hermes insisted. “Come on - we can’t leave anything here that the _apparatchiks_ will find.”

_The what?_ Peter didn’t get a chance to ask - the woman was already moving about, gathering up papers and documents, leaving Peter alone with Cratos. And yes, Cratos had all his powers, but this was probably the only chance he was going to have to face off against one as opposed to two.

Cratos had all of Peter’s strengths, but with them he had taken every one of his weaknesses. Peter knew what those were. Cratos didn’t.

_Harley told me what you told him. About how to deal with bullies._

Peter had told Tony that he would help him when he showed up; that he wasn’t planning to just sit around until he got rescued. It wasn’t a promise he was about to go back on. He needed to prove to Tony that he wasn’t some useless kid who needed his rescue every five seconds, powers or not. 

Peter suddenly slumped in Cratos’s grip, letting the man take his full weight. It was probably like carrying a plastic bag for him, but he grunted in annoyance anyway, giving Peter a shake. “Stand up.”

“I can’t,” Peter moaned “Sick.”

It wasn’t totally a lie. He could still feel the rats as strongly as if they had crawled inside him. That thought alone was enough for him to lean over even more and empty what was left of his stomach onto Cratos’s shoes.

There was hardly anything there. Peter had thrown up after Hermes’s first jump and they hadn’t fed or watered him since. Cratos jumped back anyway, shoving Peter away from him as he cursed. “That’s _disgusting_. You’re going to pay for that later, brat.”

Peter didn’t respond beyond a low moan, playing it up. Cratos seemed to buy it because he growled, “Don’t you move or you’ll have bigger things than rats to worry about.” A minute later, Peter could hear the running of a tap as Cratos rinsed off his shoes.

It was the best opportunity he was going to get. The second all eyes were off him, he rolled to his feet and bolted, bursting out the back door and feeling the brisk winter air on his cheeks.

He knew the risk he was taking. He was hoping it was going to be Cratos that pursued him, needed it to be for this plan to work.

Hermes materialized in front of him instead. Damn Parker luck.

“Nice try, kid.” Her hand closed on his arm, looking up at the sky. “Better enjoy that view. I’m taking you somewhere you’ll never see daylight again.”

Peter didn’t look up, shutting his eyes instead, waiting for Hermes to jump him away, he guessed this time for good.

He heard the distinctive sound of repulsers instead.

Hermes swore, grip tightening on him a second before an arrow pierced her shoulder. 

Golden sparks erupted up her arm as she shrieked in pain, followed by a second shout of panic when she realized she could no longer teleport away.

Peter got to enjoy exactly three seconds of freedom before he was tugged back into Cratos’s hold, one arm pinning his elbows and another going around his throat just as the Iron Man armor touched down right in front of them, the helmet peeling away to reveal one furious Tony Stark.

“Stay back.” Cratos pulled Peter even closer against him, using him as a shield as he backed away from the quinjet now parked out front of the house, looking ludicrously out of place in the rustic setting.

They were there. They were _all_ there. They’d all come for him.

They pressed in around Hermes, Rhodey pulling her up and into a set of reinforced handcuffs.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Tony said, repulser aimed straight at Cratos. Peter knew it was for show - he couldn’t hit him without hitting Peter as well. “Let him go, and we go easy on you. Well, easier on you.”

“Trade for me!” Hermes was yelling at him, struggling in Rhodey’s grip. The handcuffs were glowing the same gold as the sparks from Clint’s arrow. “Trade him for me, Cratos! They took my powers!” 

“Oh someone took your powers? I imagine that must suck,” Peter got out, wincing when the jab made Cratos grip tighter around his neck.

“They didn’t take mine,” Cratos snapped back. “Back off!” he called to the Avengers, shaking Peter. “I mean it.”

Tony’s eyes locked with Peter’s. _I know how to deal with bullies_ , Peter mouthed, willing his mentor to understand that he had a plan. That he had this.

“No,” Tony replied, out loud, drawing attention onto him. “No way.”

Cratos took the words as aimed at him because he pressed down until he was cutting off Peter’s air supply, already starting to drag him back towards the woods. Peter choked, making Tony start forward only to jerk to a halt again as Cratos called, “You get closer, he’s dead. Let me go, and I’ll release him back to you when I’m safe. Deal?”

“Cratos!” Hermes shrieked at him. “Don’t leave me with them!

Cratos ignored her, pulling Peter with him towards the woods. “I’m warning you! Don’t follow me!”

Steve stepped forward, up to Tony’s side, both of them ready to fight, but Peter called out first. “No! Listen to him. Please.”

Cratos laughed, soft and low in Peter’s ear. “Yeah, you’re definitely not Stark’s son. Such a coward.”

Peter’s cheeks burned, but he ignored the insult as he locked eyes with his mentor. “ _Tony_. Don’t follow us.”

Peter tried to put every ounce of assurance he had into those words without giving the game away, and in that moment he was sure Tony wasn’t going to listen. Not that he thought Tony or any of the other Avengers are going to let Cratos kill him, but he was certain that Tony wasn’t going to listen; was going to fight or negotiate or do anything except let Peter get out of this on his own.

_I’m saying you can still be Spider-Man without the suit._

Damn straight he could be. He made a note to thank Harley for those words when this nightmare was over.

Peter cast about for anything he could say to get Tony to just trust him, to let him get Cratos alone. Tony’s eyes were darting from Peter to Cratos, narrowed in indecision, and Peter found the words.

“If you’re nothing without the suit - then you shouldn’t have it.”

Tony’s eyes went wide, and then Cratos was tugging Peter towards the tree line, still shouting threats. 

The last thing Peter saw before he was surrounded by trees was Tony giving him the tiniest of nods.

The Avengers didn’t follow them.

Cratos dragged Peter through the woods, eventually letting go of his throat to tug him along by the arm instead, Peter struggling to keep up. “You’re too slow,” Cratos growled and, before Peter could protest, he threw Peter over his shoulder like a sack and started running.

Peter squirmed in his grip the whole way, achieving nothing. He suddenly felt bad for all the bad guys who had squared off against him as Spider-Man. They really hadn’t stood a chance.

After about twenty minutes, when there was still no sign of pursuit, Cratos paused to catch his breath, dumping Peter unceremoniously to the snowy forest floor. When Peter looked up, he could see Cratos glaring at him, shivering. “They’re never going to stop chasing you,” Peter said quietly.

Cratos laughed at that, but Peter could see the fear behind his eyes. “Really, kid? Because I don’t see them. Seems they were just fine with letting me steal you away. Again.”

Peter pushed himself off the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees. God, it was cold. “They’ll come after me,” Peter said. “And I’m clearly slowing you down. So why don’t you just let me go?”

Cratos rounded on him. “You think it was just the two of us, brat? You don’t think I have friends as well? Because I do, and they’re ten times more powerful than all of your _apparatchiks_ put together.”

There was that word again. “What’s a….a paratroop tick?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me. I’ve been told I’m bright for my age.”

Cratos was already reaching for him again, only to pull back as a violent shiver wracked his body.

“Cold?” Peter asked innocently.

Cratos glared at him. “Just move.”

He hauled Peter to his feet, going to put him over his shoulder again, but stopped when he almost collapsed under Peter’s weight. He grabbed his wrist instead, starting to pull him along, although not with anything close to the strength he had had before.

“You feeling ok?” Peter asked, still in that innocent voice.

“Stop talking.”

“You don’t look like you’re feeling ok.”

“Stop talking or I’ll knock you out and carry you.”

They got another mile or so before Cratos stopped again, bending over double, then suddenly kicking a pile of snow in frustration. “Goddamnit! This wasn’t even worth it!”

Peter felt the hand around his wrist loosen, but didn’t dare pull out of it just yet.

“Melinoe wasn’t worth...” Cratos gestured back from where they had come from, then kicked the ground again, Peter wincing as he was tugged forward with the movement. “Dammit...Hermes...she’s going to kill me.”

Peter wasn’t sure how Hermes could kill anyone now, but didn’t comment on it. “You know the Avengers never had her, right? Melinoe?”

Cratos whipped around to glare at him. “We’re past lying by now, aren’t we kid?”

“I’m not lying. We didn’t catch her. She ran away. You ever thought that maybe she wasn’t on board with the whole kidnapping and torture thing?”

Cratos shook him, but with hardly any of the strength he was showing before. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, sometimes if you love someone you gotta let them go, right? Not kidnap teenagers to trade for prisoners the Avengers don’t even have.”

“You’re lying.” Cratos shook his head. “She wouldn’t have run from us. Ever.”

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but I think she’s moved on. But you know, plenty of enhanced fish in the sea.”

“ _Shut_ _up_.” The words were meant to be venomous, but they lost some of their heat as Cratos suddenly dropped to his knees. He wrapped his arms around himself, teeth chattering uncontrollably. “What…what is happening to me?”

He didn’t even try to stop Peter as he pulled himself out of his grip. “Well, there’s this thing about spiders,” Peter explained, taking several steps back so he was well out of Cratos’s range. “They’re cold-blooded, see. So they can’t thermoregulate too good.”

Peter just got a glimpse of Cratos’s panicked expression before activity surrounded him. He didn’t even see where Natasha came from; one moment he and Cratos were alone, and the next she was behind him, locking a gold-glowing collar around his throat. Cratos cursed at her as he scrabbled at it, but Peter had other things to focus on.

His strength. It was returning.

He was suddenly doubled over, gasping from the assault on his senses. Everything was bright, every sound amplified, as was every smell. 

Including the smell of rats that still covered him from head to toe.

Then there were strong hands around him, turning him around. “Kid? Hey, kid. Talk to me.”

Peter couldn’t, even as he registered the irony. He was safe. Tony was here. And it was at _this_ moment that he chose to have a freakout?

“What’s going on, Pete? Talk to me.”

Peter closed his eyes, hoping that closing off one sense would help with the overload, but it just heightened the others. 

“Rats…” He got out.

“Rats? Kid, there are no rats -”

“Rats. The smell. Can’t -”

He flinched as something started to wrap around him, lashing out until he recognized the comforting feel of Tony’s tech encasing him, from his feet all the way up to his neck, leaving Tony in his dry-fit clothes and housing unit, eyes wide with concern. 

The smell was reduced somewhat, although Peter could still taste it on his tongue. But it was enough for him to pull in a breath, finding himself back in the present.Tony laid his hands on Peter’s nanotech-covered arms. “Better? 

“Yeah, that’s…that’s way better. Thanks.” He met Tony’s eyes. “You trusted me.”

"Yeah, and it was awful.” Tony let out a sigh of relief. “You scared the hell out of me, kid.”

“Sorry.”

“Not the answer I was looking for. Are you hurt anywhere?”

A full-body convulsion rocked through Peter. “Not hurt. Just…”

Tony’s hands gripped him tighter. “Name it. What do you need?”

“A shower,” Peter muttered. “I really need a shower.”

Tony let out a surprised laugh, getting to his feet saying “Kid, after the day we’ve had, I’ll buy you the Roman baths,” before pulling Peter in for a hug.


	6. Chapter 6

Before two days had passed, Cratos and Hermes were locked away in reinforced holding cells at the Compound, the files at the farmhouse had been passed over to New S.H.I.E.L.D., Peter had showered about fifteen times, and Harley’s bags were packed.

It hadn’t taken more than one overheard conversation between Tony and Steve about the Compound not being a safe place for teenagers for Peter to rush to Harley’s room, only to find it stripped bare.

A few days ago, Peter admitted that the sight would have left him relieved, even happy. Now, he just felt sad. Harley wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe they could have been friends.

“Looking for something, Parker?”

Peter jumped a mile as Harley appeared from the en suite bathroom at the end of the room, giving Peter that crooked grin. He waved at him with the hand that wasn’t in a cast and sling. “You know, most people knock. I thought you were all polite and shit.”

“I thought you’d left already.”

The grin fell off Harley’s face. “Tonight.” There was no mistaking the traces of bitterness in the word.

“I’m sorry.”

Harley shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I get it. Clearly, this enhanced guerrilla group, or whatever they are, aren’t done yet. I don’t want to make things more complicated for Tony. He’s busy enough as it is.”

“That’s not why he’s sending you away.”

“I know.” The defensiveness in Harley’s stance proved otherwise. He looked around the empty room. “Good thing I never really unpacked. Nearly done.” He reached down the side of the bed, withdrawing a sheaf of crumpled papers, deliberately hiding them from Peter’s view.

“What is that?”

“Unimportant. It’s not like I’m going to get to build it now.”

“Maybe Tony can set up a workshop where you’re going. Where are you going?”

“That’s classified. Even to me.”

Peter tried to imagine getting on a plane not knowing where he was going - not knowing when he’d get to see May, Tony, Ned or MJ again. He couldn’t. “That’s really crappy.”

Harley shrugged it off. “My fault. I was the one who came here. If I hadn’t -”

“If you hadn’t, I might have been kidnapped alone, and things might have been a lot worse,” Peter interrupted him. “Not that I was glad you were kidnapped,” he added quickly. “Did that sound like I was glad you were kidnapped? Because I didn’t mean that at all. In fact -”

“Shut up before you have a stroke, I get it.” Harley waved him in. “Stop hanging out in the doorway like an actual spider and get in here. It’s getting weird.”

Peter made his way into the room. Most of the furniture was gone too, so there was nowhere else to sit but at the other end of Harley’s bed. The close proximity didn’t feel as uncomfortable as Peter thought it would.

Harley folded what looked liked sketches in his uninjured hand without creasing the paper. “Well, for what’s it worth, I was glad we were in it together too. That would have sucked alone, so. There, is that corny enough for you? A happy enough ending for our fic?”

“If this was a fic we’d probably hug about here and call each other brothers, or something.”

“Yeah, let’s not push it.” Harley looked Peter up and down. “I’ve decided you’re not terrible, by the way.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Harley raised an eyebrow at him. “I think you’re meant to say ‘you’re not terrible either, Harley.’”

“I never thought you were terrible.”

Harley crossed his good arm under the broken one, leaning against the headboard. “Well, if it wasn’t because you’re a homophobe, and it’s not because you’re some stuck-up rich kid, why the hell were you all…” He gestured vaguely. “Like _that_ when I got here?”

Peter flushed. He hadn’t released he’d been that obvious. He added that to the list of spy lessons he was going to ask Natasha for. “Sorry.”

“That’s not an answer. Come on, I’m leaving anyway. Spit it out.”

Peter sighed. “It was stupid.”

“Oh, I bet.”

“Fine. I…I was jealous. Alright?”

Harley laughed, surprised. “Ok, and what was the real reason?”

“That was the real reason.”

“Wait. Seriously? Why on earth would _you_ be jealous of _me?”_

Peter frowned at him. “Because you and Tony are so close, and you have all this history, and you’re so much like him and -”

“Hold up.” Harley was staring at him. “Are you screwing with me right now?”

“I wish, but no. I already told you I knew it was dumb.”

“Yeah, you think?” Harley laughed, disbelieving. “And here I was being jealous of _you.”_

It was Peter’s turn to stare. “Me? _Why?_ ”

“What do you mean, why? Look at where you live, who you get to hang out with. Dude, you’re freakin’ _Spider-Man_. You’re an Avenger. You get to see Tony, like, every day.”

“Not every day.”

“Look, I’m not…” Harley ran a hand through his hair, exactly like Tony did when he was frustrated. “I’m not saying I have, I don’t know, a claim to Tony or anything. He crashed into my garage one time, and yeah we kept in touch, but he was always at a distance. Which was fine, it was always fine. He’s Tony Stark, right? He doesn’t have time for some teenager. He certainly wouldn’t take the time to make one his intern.”

Pieces were falling into place. “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh._ And it got to the point where I was pretty sure I was just projecting. My dad cleared off when I was pretty young and then my mom had one crappy boyfriend after another. It didn’t take long to get to one that looked into a high tech, Iron Man-sponsored garage and saw an easy payday.”

Peter winced. “Does Tony know about -”

“No,” Harley cut him off. “No, he doesn’t, and you can’t tell him. I don’t want him to know about that. Any of that, ok?”

_Any of that? “_ You said…back in that farmhouse. You said you were used to pain. Was there one of your mom’s boyfriends who…”

“More than one. But it’s fine,” Harley added quickly. “Really. Shit happens”

“It’s, um, kind of not fine. No, actually, it’s really not.” Peter was having a hard time taking his eyes off his shoes. He missed his parents and Ben every day, but at least he’d never had to worry about feeling unsafe at home. “I’m really sorry, Harley. That’s awful. You didn’t deserve that.”

Harley went very still at the last sentence. “It is what it is.”

“I mean it,” Peter insisted. “You really, really didn’t deserve that.”

Harley suddenly got to his feet, putting distance between them, but Peter didn’t miss Harley wiping at his eyes as he did so. “You might not say that if you knew what..." He broke off, clearing his throat. The next words came out thick. "Just don’t tell Tony. Please.”

“Ok,” Peter agreed. “I won’t, but…you know he wouldn’t care, right? Wait, no, I mean, he would care, obviously. But he wouldn’t judge you for it, or anything.” Peter thought back to the story he’d overheard of Tony’s first kidnapping when he was only six years old, and Howard refusing to pay for him back. “I think he’d get it. His dad wasn’t physically abusive, or at least I don’t think he was but…you know.” And he had a strong feeling Harley did.

“Yeah, I do. Still, I wouldn’t bother him with all that stuff. It’s in the past now, anyway. I can look after myself. I don’t need him thinking anything different.”

Peter debated whether or not to stand, and decided against it. If Harley was anything like Tony (and sometimes the similarities were so startling that Peter still wasn’t quite sure they weren’t blood-related), he would need space, and to approach Peter at his own pace, if he wanted to.

“I really get that,” he said in a small voice, getting Harley to stop pacing. “Needing him to think that you’re, you know, capable.”

Harley huffed out out a laugh. “Come off it. You’re _Spider-Man._ And even when you didn’t have your powers you still saved me, _twice,_ and then I know you tricked that guy into freezing his ass off or whatever freaky spider shit that was. You’re capable as hell.”

Peter flushed. “You should give Tony that speech.”

“I’m sure he thinks that too. You’re here, aren’t you? You’re staying.”

Oh. There it was. “Harley -”

“It’s fine,” Harley interrupted him. “This isn’t a pity party. Even though…I don’t know. Just the thought that maybe, this was here. The whole time.” _But he gave it to you instead._

“It wasn’t like that,” Peter rushed, needing to explain. “It really, really wasn’t. Tony needed backup for Germany - I was available. And then even after all that, he kept me at arms’ length for a really long time. It wasn’t until I took on some Vulture guy and May found out and yelled at him that he invited me up here. He, um, took the suit away once too.” Peter’s cheeks burned. That was not a memory he liked reliving. “And to be honest, I…I’m never sure whether or not he’s going to do it again.”

“What?” It was Harley’s turn to be on the reassurance team. “Are you kidding? You got us out of there without the suit, without powers. He’d be crazy to take it away. Isn’t it yours, anyway?” 

“It’s technically Avengers property.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.” Harley finally took a seat back on the bed. “I owe Tony a lot. And don’t get me wrong, I think he’s, you know…he’s _Iron Man._ But it kind of feels nice to be able to talk about this kind of stuff. With someone who gets it.”

Peter nodded. “I do get it. I love Tony, I do, and I know he’s trying his best but…I guess everyone makes mistakes. Even Iron Man.”

Harley hummed. “You know, I lied to you earlier.”

“I think Steve has a PSA about that.”

“Oh yeah, my school made us watch those too. The detention one is the worst.”

“Agreed. What did you lie to me about?”

Harley grinned, sheepish. “The Winter Soldier isn’t my favorite. It is Iron Man.”

“Well yeah, he’s the best Avenger. Obviously.” Peter twirled his thumbs, growing serious again. “He does care about you, you know.”

Harley shuffled, uncomfortable again. “I know.”

“He _does_. He’s not always the best at showing it, and I didn’t know him before the Accords so I can’t compare, but I can’t imagine they’ve made that any easier.”

“You said you’re worried about him taking your suit away.”

“Yeah, but even if he did…” Peter remembered Tony pulling him in for a hug in the forest. “He’d be in my life regardless, you know? I trust him enough for that, at least. And if you’re thinking that he chose me over you or whatever…that’s not what happened. And vice versa.”

“Yeah.” Harley shuffled his feet, not meeting Peter’s eyes. “Yeah, I know. Still…you get to stay.”

“Maybe you can come back, when it’s safer."

“Yeah, I’m a realist, I don’t think so.”

“Well I’m an optimist, and I think you could. You deserve somewhere safe.” After a beat, Peter held out a hand for the papers still clutching in Harley’s hand. “You got a pencil?”

Hesitant, Harley handed them over, fishing in his pocket for a pen. Peter scrawled an address on the top of the first paper, then handed them back. “That’s my aunt’s address. If you ever need somewhere to stay that’s safe, and the Compound isn’t an option, you can drop by whenever. Aunt May is really cool, even if her cooking is…her cooking.”

Harley stared at the scribbled words like they were a map to El Dorado. “That’s…” He swallowed, hard. “That’s pretty cool, Parker. Thanks.”

Peter nodded towards the designs. “That’s an amazing suit, by the way. Did you show it to Tony?”

Harley hugged the designs closer to him. “It’s not for Iron Man. It was just an idea. It’s stupid. Then again…” He shot Peter a grin, to let him know he was kidding. “So’s a spider-based superhero, but here we are.”

“Hey,” Peter protested. “I was just complimenting you. You should build it.”

“Maybe.”

“You could be, like Iron Man Jr.”

“Worse superhero name ever.”

“Iron Boy.”

“I stand corrected.”

That night, both Peter and Tony came to see Harley off, the latter wrapping him a final hug. “Sorry,” Tony muttered. “But I have to make sure you’re safe. You get that, right?”

Harley nodded against Tony’s chest. “I guess.” He caught Peter’s eye over their mentor’s shoulder. “I do,” he amended. “I know you’re doing what you think is right.”

After they broke apart, Harley offered a hand to Peter. “See you around, Parker. Don’t get kidnapped again.”

Peter took it with a smile. “I’ll try.”

Tony and Peter watched the plane take off together before Tony clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder, his expression serious. “We need to talk.”

***

“I’ve never seen your room this clean.”

Tony was wandering around Peter’s bedroom, which had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life and then some since Peter’s return.

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, well, you said that thing about the dirty dishes attracting rats and I, um, couldn’t get that out of my head so…” He gestured around the sparkling room.

Tony winced. “Not my preferred method of getting you to keep your room clean.”

“Hey, it’s effective, isn’t it? May probably wished I had crawled into a rat’s nest years ago.” He said it as a joke, but had to repress a shudder as he felt ghostly claws and teeth crawling over his neck. He sat on the bed to hide it, expecting Tony to join him, but instead Tony took the desk chair instead, like Peter had last time. As though he wanted distance.

“So, we need to talk about some stuff.”

Peter signed, resigned. He’d expected this talk. The ‘be-more-careful’, ‘don’t tell me to leave you alone with dangerous kidnappers again’ talk. “Alright, let’s get it over with.”

Tony’s brow furrowed, confused. “Did Rogers already talk to you? Because we both agreed that I would be the one to -”

Peter interrupted him. “Wait, was Captain America going to give me a lecture on responsibility? Because he can save himself the time, I’m pretty sure there’s, like, three different PSAs he could show me.”

Tony didn’t laugh. Which was weird, because any mention of the dreaded PSAs was usually enough to get at least a chuckle out of any Avenger. “Tony?”

“Figures it would be now that I finally get you to drop the ‘Mr Stark’ stuff.”

“What do you mean, now?” Peter could feel panic slowly rising. “Wait you’re not…” This was everything he had feared, through the kidnapping and after. “You’re not taking the suit away again, are you? Because I know I let them take me and Harley, and I know Harley got hurt and that was my fault but I really tried to keep him safe and get out of my own, and -”

“Woah, kid. Even I can’t keep up with all that. What’s this about you thinking it was your fault Harley got hurt?”

Peter looked down at his hands. “The first time they called you…they told me to talk to you, but I was too slow, so they broke his wrist. If I had only talked faster -”

“Nope,” Tony cut across him. “No, we’re not doing that, not today. Anything that happened to Harley - to either of you - was their fault, ok? Not yours. And from what Harley told me, it would have been a lot worse if you hadn’t stepped up.”

Peter shrugged it off. “He saved me too. He told Cratos that he might lose all my powers if he, you know…” He gestured to his throat. The bruises had quickly faded once his healing factor had returned, but Tony grimaced as he made the gesture anyway.

“Yeah. So…yeah, that’s what we’re here to talk about.”

Peter suddenly felt very small. “Please don’t take the suit.”

“What? No,” Tony said quickly. “Christ, no. Is _that_ what you’ve been thinking?”

“Well….kind of. I thought you might.”

“I promised I’d never do that again, remember? Why did you think I would?”

“Because…” Peter’s cheeks burned. “Well because I got, you know, kidnapped, _again,_ and- ”

“No, no. Stop.” Tony held up his hand. “The suit’s not going anywhere, ok? If anything, this proved that you should have it more than ever.”

“Really?”

“Suit’s yours, baring any latent teen desires to paint it black and turn super-villain. That was our deal.”

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. “Ok. Ok, good, because for a moment there you had me worried.” He frowned even as he said it, because Tony was definitely not looking as relaxed as he was. In fact, he was twisting his hands in his lap, not looking at him. “But there’s something else?”

“Before I say this…this is not a reflection on you, in any way, ok?”

“Ok, you’re starting to freak me out a little.”

“I need you to know that you did good. Better than good. You had Harley’s back, you thought your way out of an impossible situation. You were every bit a hero without the suit and the powers out there, kid. I’m proud of you.”

In any other scenario that would have qualified as one of the top ten moments of Peter’s life, but he was distracted by the way Tony still wasn’t looking at him. “Ok, now you’re freaking me out a lot.”

Tony ran a hand through his hair. “I called May.”

“Ok?” Peter had already had the ‘I was so worried don’t do that again’ talk from May. It had sucked, it always did, but they had worked it out.“I mean, yeah, ok, I guess she wasn’t all that happy about the kidnapping and everything but I promise I’ll talk to her, if she’s mad at you, I can smooth that out -”

“You shouldn’t have to smooth that out.”

“Because it wasn’t like it was your fault and I’m fine and the bad guys are arrested now, so we’re all good, right? Right?”

“Kid…” Peter debated telling Tony he was really messing up his carefully styled hair, but decided it wasn’t the right time. “We’re not ‘all good’. Not by a long shot. And it was my fault.”

Peter was shaking his head. “It really wasn’t -”

“It _was_ ,” Tony insisted. “Whenever you’re in the suit - hell, whenever you’re out of the suit as well - I’m responsible for you. That’s the deal I made with May, it’s the deal I made with the team when I brought you on. I said I’d keep you low profile, keep you safe. This is hardly the definition of keeping a teenager safe.”

“But you arrested Cratos and Hermes. It’s fine now.”

“Like it was was fine after we took out Aceso? There’s more of them, and we don’t know who they are or what they want. But whatever that is - money, a piece of tech, a returned prisoner that we don’t even _have_ \- they’ve gone after you to get it. _Twice._ There can’t be a third time. Do you understand?”

“We can be more careful, put more security measures in place -”

“We’re past that.” Tony twisted his hands in his lap. “You can still be Spider-Man, ok? That’s still on the table. But when you come and visit the Compound…you come as Spider-Man. Not as Peter Parker.”

“I don’t understand.” The panic from before was rising, even as Peter wasn’t even sure what he should be panicking about yet. “Peter Parker _is_ Spider-Man. Wasn’t that the moral of this whole story?”

“Spider-Man is a member of the Avengers and my colleague. That’s not who these guys went after.”

The floor was falling out from under Peter’s feet. “Ok, I’m officially freaked out. What are you saying right now?”

“I don’t want this,” Tony entreated. “I need you to know that. But May and Rogers both spoke to me and…well, Cap and I don’t agree on a lot these days, but even we managed to agree that this is for the best.”

Peter was on his feet now. “ _What’s_ for the best?”

“That our, um, relationship stays professional from here on out.”

The words took a full five seconds to absorb. “So…”

Tony fixed him with a look. “I need to keep you safe. That’s the only thing that matters, you get that right?”

“It’s _not_ the only thing that matters!” Peter cast about for the right words, the ones to stop this from happening, and couldn’t find them. “You can’t just keep me on the bench until you track these guys down!”

“I’m not benching you,” Tony argued. “You can still fight and train with us - on missions we approve you for, of course, and I’ll still be working on your suit. But if there are rumors being passed around that you’re my…that we’re related in some way, we need to find a way to quash those, and fast.”

“I’m already pretending to be an intern. I never say anything outside of that. I don’t brag, or show off, even when Flash gives me hell for it. I say that I mostly make coffees and photocopies, I pretend that I’ve never even met you!”

Tony shifted, uncomfortable, and Peter had never seen the man this miserable. “Yeah, Pete? The internship. That’s over too.”

Peter suddenly wished he was still sitting down. “I can’t…we can’t hang out at all, until you catch the rest of these guys? How long will that be? A month? Longer?”

“Peter…”

“A _year?”_

Tony tried to meet his eyes, and couldn’t, bypassing him to stare at the ceiling instead. “It doesn’t matter when we catch them. Because there’s going to be more after them, and more after that. There’s always going to be someone who wants to get to me. And it can’t be through you, not again. Not _ever._ Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Peter did. It didn’t make the next words any easier to hear.

“We need to keep our distance. Permanently.”

“So I don’t even get a say?”

“I’m responsible for your safety -”

“You’re not.” 

“I am,” Tony insisted, then cut Peter off when he tried to argue further. “This is the part where you listen. The adult is talking.”

“No. _You_ listen.” Peter whirled to face him, crossing his arms, then backing down a bit when he saw the look on Tony’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…look, I can take care of myself, with or without the suit or even the powers. I just proved that, and I’ve proven that before. I’m sixteen. Not five.”

“Exactly,” Tony shot back, standing as well. “You’re sixteen, and too young to know better.”

“You didn’t think I was too young when you took me to Germany, or asked me to be an Avenger -”

“And I was wrong!”

An awful silence fell between them.

“Look," Tony said finally. "There’s no point having this conversation. It’s been decided. Not just by me. I wanted to put you on that plane right next to Harley, but May refused to let me send you away entirely. This was our compromise.”

Peter felt his eyes grow wet and rapidly blinked them away. Tears weren’t going to help sell the idea that he wasn’t a little kid.

Tony saw anyway. “Peter…”

“It’s fine,” Peter said quickly. “I’ll pack. I’ll go.”

“You still have a room here. That isn't changing." 

“I just…need some space.”

“Ok. Ok, yeah, sure you can have space.” Tony was already standing, going for the door. He paused, about to say something else.

Peter willed him to take it back. To change his mind. To say that they were both smart, that they’d find a different way. 

Instead Tony said, “Anything that’s Spider-Man related can stay. But everything else you need to pack. May’s coming to pick you up tonight.” Then he was gone.

Peter lay on the bed for at least an hour, refusing to cry. With all the worry about Tony taking away the suit or losing his place in the Avengers, he had never thought he’d lose his personal relationship with Tony. He had thought that been a constant; a guarantee after Toomes’s arrest. He had told Harley as such.

He had believed it.

_Maybe if you weren’t stupid enough to get kidnapped a million times Tony would still want you around._

_He still wants me around,_ Peter argued. _He just thinks he’s protecting me better this way._

_Are you sure? Maybe he’s just been looking for an excuse to get rid of you._

_Shut up, stupid negative voice in my head._

_Maybe you’ve been wasting his time. He’s Tony Stark - you really think he actually enjoys your stupid questions and needing his help every five minutes?_

“Shut up!” Peter threw a pillow at the ceiling, just as his phone rang.

For one bizarre moment, Peter was sure it was Tony, ringing to apologize, even as he realized that didn’t make sense. Tony was in the same building - why would he call? 

It didn’t feel like he was in the same building. It felt like he was a million miles away.

Peter relaxed a little when he saw the Caller ID. “Ned.” He tried and failed to keep the shake out of his voice. “It’s, um, not the best time.”

_“Peter?”_

“Sorry.” Peter wiped his eyes. “Rough day.” Although hearing Ned’s voice was helping. “Hey, are you busy? I’m on my way back to Queens in a few hours, could we maybe meet up and talk about -”

_“Peter, there’s someone here. There’s someone in my house.”_

Every thought of Tony was shoved to the back of Peter’s mind as he sprung off the bed, putting the phone on speaker as he reached for the Spider-Man suit tucked into his backpack. “I’m on my way. Is anyone else home?”

_“No, just me. My parents won’t be back until late. She says…she says you need to get here before then.”_

Peter froze. “Ned are you…are you ok? Who’s telling you that?”

_“I’m not hurt.”_ That wasn’t an answer. _“But, um, she’s not letting me leave either. Not until you get here.”_ Ok, that was an answer. _“She says not to bring anyone else. Or to tell anyone else you’re coming.”_

Peter sucked in a breath through his teeth, ripping the mask into place. “Who is she, Ned?”

But the next voice over the phone wasn’t Ned’s. _“Peter Parker? My name’s Melinoe. We need to meet.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Whumptoberverse continues in [There Will be Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200738/chapters/66440552), which takes place immediately after where this fic leaves off.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jinxquickfoot), especially if you also write fanfic or do fanart! Share your work with me!
> 
> Hey are you tired of me plugging my podcast yet? Well if so that means you've clicked on a fair few of my fics and for that I am very grateful, kind reader. You could spend your time anywhere, and you spent it here, and that is quite wonderful of you.
> 
> "Kill the Cat" is a film and screenwriting podcast which my co-host and I take our favorite films and screenplays and break down why and how they work, and in a week we're releasing our episode on Avengers: Infinity War. If that sounds up your ally, pop over to [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ypaen3yM5Q&t=1s&ab_channel=KilltheCatPodcast), [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/show/5hCprc9UCBZP4srFrBXKT1?si=0CF3IKjGThK0tohIqcEy4Q) or wherever you get your podcasts and hit that 'subscribe' to get notified when we release the episode.
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